Mordane Stronghoof

Chapters

Mistakes
Time Sweetly Spent
A city and a mothers love

Mistakes

Author's Note

PASSWORD: 123

Mistakes

The battalion crept over the craggy hill as the sun beat heavily down their heads. Bred for war, the soldiers did not falter. Scores of battles-hardened soldiers marched under the hot morning sun with past victories weighing heavily on their march.

"How could they do any less," John thought as he readied his weapon.

He turned his focus on the enemy, feverishly grasping for their weakness, thinking of a dozen contingencies, and weighing the probable results of his plan.

"So, their forces were all funneled to here, not surprising. They clearly don't know how many we number. We will crush them here. War doesn't forgive mistakes."

He stopped on a rocky hill, hiding among the greenery. Behind him was the growling and spitting of his followers; they were itching for a fight.

Distantly he felt his heart piston away, mixing with a present hungry need to rush the green bridges, to seize the enemy. Tear them apart. Piece by piece. He resisted the urge, and with a flash of will forced his comrades to do the same.

The foreign army surged in frenzy on the other side of a vast stream between them. Some would slip, falling into the current to be washed away. There they remained, just as hungry for their attack, a tremendous roving mass of black armor.

"Good. Just as planned."

He gave the signal.

The red army tore from the bush, slamming into the back of the black army's mass.

He waited for the black army to turn and be fully committed before sending his red ant forces pouring over the bridges, falling onto them.

And he joined in as well, grabbing, snapping, piercing.

Heads were served, legs crushed, and countless fell. Elation washed over him as the enemy mass was broken up and encircled in smaller pockets.

His heart swelled with euphoria, and he charged at the nearest enemy with abandon, sinking his jaws into their hide. He shook, trying to rip a chunk from them.

Suddenly, he felt a pincer on his leg. He scrambled as a far larger soldier dragged him through the line, tossing him to be surrounded by enemies. He struggled, but they gripped his flesh, tearing and rending as they wrenched his joints. There was nothing he could do, nothing-

John exhaled slowly, then followed with two quick breaths to focus his mind before splitting his focus into two. One focused on his heart, still beating fast; willing it to slow. While the second forced away discrations. Soon his mentalscape settled into a calm pool, letting him open his eyes and returning him to where he belonged.

The area was the backyard. The grass was green and long, the bushes overgrown. In one corner a small shed could be seen. Its doors were held shut by that grass. John sat on a cheap lawn chair as the warm morning sun fell on his face.

It was a small backyard meant for a growing family back when this suburb had been built. Now it belonged to him. The three back walls seemed taller at the moment, their stained wood giving almost a sense of privacy as he sat on his small mat.

Standing, he took a few steps across the backyard and looked down at the small stream from a hose and the two armies of ants, red and black.

And among the crowd of black, a single red ant was being ripped to shreds.

He stared at the ant, silent and unmoving. His eyes were unfocused and distant.

"John!"

John's head snapped to the fence where Mike stood. The old man with a white beard leaned over, coughing into his fist before looking back to grin at him.

"Mike, how have you been?" John smiled, stepping up to the fence.

"Fine! Fine. I've been worried about you, boy. How are you holding up?"

"I'm- I'm okay," John replied flatly.

"I see, 'okay' is better than 'fine,' I suppose." He coughed, which broke out into a hacking fit.

"You okay?" John asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Yeah, but we ain't talking about me," he replied.

John stood silent for a few moments looking away from him.

"I know."

"How about you and I have a game in the park? For your grandfather's sake."

John tensed up.

"That old coot wouldn't want you to hole up in his house."

John glared at Mike, who met his gaze steadily.

"I have an old chessboard. Analog and hand-carved." Mike grinned.

John frowned some more before smirking.

"A chess game. Really?"

"Hey, classics are the best." He laughed.

John sighed and shook his head.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess it's for the best. I'll see you there."

Mike nodded, his wrinkles creasing a little further as he turned away, waving.

”Why won’t you just leave me alone?” John thought.

"Good! See you at two then."

"Yeah, two it is."

John stomped back into his house, closing the door behind him. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he noted he had three hours before they agreed to meet.

"I got some time then," he thought aloud.

He went to a small back room in his house. Walking in he saw a small room lined with tables and just enough space for an office chair. All around, hanging on walls, were tools and small drawers filled with tiny gears, springs, and glassware.

Sitting at his desk, he swept over a short flat box and began carefully removing the parts of a watch.

The client was unsure why this 1875 watch had stopped working, and the original manufacturer no longer existed.

He began going over the parts, noting any issues he saw.

The glass face cracked as he turned the screw one too many times.
John slowly lowered the watch, a vein pulsing with his head as he clenched his fist.

"I will have to order a custom glass front for this one. The client will be furious."

Stepping from the room, he kicked a table leg.

Which promptly snapped off.

John stopped and looked at the now three-legged table, which was somehow still standing.

He sighed and walked to the door. Glancing at the clock, he noted that an hour had passed.

"I need a distraction or something," he mumbled, heading down the corridor to the kitchen before suddenly stopping.

Looking up, he stared at the drop stairs to the attic as his brow twisted into a frown.

"No. Not yet. Later." He looked away and continued to the kitchen but stopped again after realizing there was nothing he wanted.

For a moment, he considered ordering a pizza.

"If I order any more the delivery man is likely to think I'm into him." He snorted at the thought before sighing and looking at the front door. His hand shook slightly, and eyes watered. "I guess I could go out for lunch."

He took a moment to breathe and calm his mind through focus.

“Breath in, breath out. Focus on nothing

Then he stepped out of the door.

"If only it were so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?" -The Gulag Archipelago

The air smelled of tulips, tar, and floor cleaner.

Sitting in the restaurant, John closed his book, marking his place. He stared out the window at nothing, lost in his thoughts for a moment before shaking his head. As he left, he nodded to the restaurant owner, tossing his payment onto the counter.

"Good to see you, John."

"Likewise."

The sun was high and warm. A slight chilly wind carried the smell of newly cut grass, oil, and concrete. A strange mix was only found in these places that were a mix of town and city.

Not that John cared. The smells and warmth were only registered as a temperature deviation and an abnormal smell.

He felt the shift of clothes on his body. The pulse of his heart. His slight fever as his body temperature raised ever so slightly to combat the mildly chilly air.

People passed him, some absentmindedly, others furiously swiping at screens only they could see. Still, others looked trapped at the moment as the world roiled around them. Understandings slipped into his mind, windows into the people he passed. That one had a family member die, that one is a crook, that one is insecure. Mentally he pushed away from the knowledge, the constant stream of information that seemed to cut into every moment he was around others. They were like open books to him. One he would glance at only to see the words and have their vile ideas worm into his head.

John passed an alley, a man took note of him, and John of the man.

Maybe it was the way he turned away or the tension in his neck muscle, but John immediately knew what was on the man's mind.

And he couldn't afford to rest his mind anymore. Ignoring the flood of information that would bombard him every second. In a few seconds, he assessed a hundred factors. He noted the poor timing of people he had passed a moment before being too distant. The lack of cars meant no easy way to separate himself from the man. He assessed what he had in terms of weapons. Taking a fraction of a second to note that he regretted not bringing his firearm.

All this flashed through his mind in three steps before he made a decision.

John stopped walking and turned fully to look at the man, leaving his hand reached to his back waistband.

The man froze, startled at the sudden change of behavior. John watched as he took a moment to reformulate and reassess this target. Already seeing the conclusion that would be reached.

"Hey, uh, you got a few bucks, rider? I need some smokes."

John's eyes darkened. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his spare change and offered it to the man, who accepted, glancing down at John's waist and then back to his eyes.

John stared him down, his frown twisting into a scowl as the man mumbled something heading off.

"Damn man's fault for coming up on me like that," he thought. For a moment he wanted to just throw something at the back of his head, but John pushed that away. Turning, he took a moment to take a deep breath. In the nearby park were well-kept flowers and clean paths. Painted perspective warping backdrops and large knotted trees.

Exhaling slowly, he crossed the street into the park heading to his destination.

He found Mike waiting for him. A board was laid out for them to play made from granite. Bare wood pieces just screaming for some lacquer. Time wore them smooth.

John grabbed a white pawn and moved it two forward.

"So, how is that train I got you?"

"Boiler is a little cracked. I left the printer running last night to make a new one."

"Ah, of course. Are you going to use it on the main model line?"

"No, probably a countryside one. It's a very old model."

"True. True."

White pawn to C4. Black to C5

"So, how are the kids," John asked, his eyes playing over the board and quickly moving. D4 to D5. To which Mike Responded pawn to E6.

"Good. Thank you for asking. Makes me wonder if you plan to ever have any tikes running around."

"Probably not," John replied, moving the knight to C3.

Mike moved E6 to capture D5, to which John replied with his pawn sitting on C4.

Pawn to D6, pawn to E4, pawn to G6, pawn to F4.

Mike rubbed his eyebrow before looking up at John.

"John, life is hard. Even harder when you go it alone. The world is changing. Even faster now. Soon everyone will feel like old men. It's your kids that can keep you grounded."

"The world really is changing," John agreed. "So many places returned to the forest. It's just too expensive to live out there anymore. I looked into it. Not unless you can make your own power and water. It reminds me of something Thomas Edison said: 'We will make electric light so cheap that only the rich will be able to burn candles.'" John laughed. "Walkable cities, space habitats. It feels like the world has left us behind."

He looked over to a nearby table. Several boys huddled around a holographic rendition of Magic The Gathering being played. The newest models allowed for custom attack animations. So the games had become more about spectacle than anything. More artistic, the supporters said. Others said the core of the game was ruined by larpers. Cards became vaguer as kids layered on their own 'flavor' for any attack. Making their own themes and 'roleplay.' Local forums held long AI assisted dramatizations of their battles, alliances and backstories. Whole little virtual nations and kingdoms of little wizards playing out. John ruffled his nose at it. Card games lacked the fidelity of reality, even with cutting edge simulation.

"The world is at peace," Mike continued. "Well, no hot wars, at least. Everyone is too busy after the Great Collapse"

John's mouth thinned into a line as his eyes grew distant. Remembering the years of the second depression as a child and the pain of growing up before he shook the thoughts out of his head, forcing on a grin at his friend, "Why do you sound so melancholic, old man? You saw interesting times!"

"Hahaha, yes, they were. But that's all gone now, and you saw much of it too." He sat back, rubbing his left arm with a wince. "How old are you anyway?"

"I turned thirty this year," John replied.

"Thirty? Huh. Your grandfather was a marvel, wasn't he? That would mean you were born…twenty ten hmm?"

"Old coot was still running around at a hundred and twenty..." John said softly. "Said he'd never die."

The two sat quietly. The old man across soberly licked his lips. Looking at the board, "Despite all the advancements in healthcare we’ve made. Well, all men die." He moved a piece. John failed to take note before looking back up. “John, It ain't your fault what happened."

John was not listening. His eyes were staring off at one of the entrances of the park.

Following his gaze, John noted a young man grilling with his family. He seemed hunched over the grill, barely interacting with his wife who brought him a drink.

"… you'll have to talk to him eventually. Neither of you are going to leave town." The old man moved a piece again. "He’s still lookin' to talk to you about it."

"Not today," John mumbled, his hand shaking. "I got to go."

"Come on, John," Mike said. "You can't avoid him forever."

"I don't have to avoid him forever. I just have to avoid him till I die."

John slipped out and headed to another park exit, leaving Mike shaking his head behind him.

The door closing behind him felt like the sound of a thousand-pound weight clinking to the ground behind him. Rubbing his head, he went to the fridge and grabbed a lemonade. He briefly considered streaming a movie or diving into VR.

Slowly though his eyes raised down before shaking his head.

*Ring* *Ring*

John tensed at the sound.

Slowly sliding his phone out of his pocket, hoping against hope that it was a spam call. Only to audibly groan at who it was.

"Hello, Mom."

"Johny? Johny! How are you doing, dear? I haven't heard from you."

"Mom, it's John, please. I'm doing fine," he replied flatly, wanting to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

"Have you been eating right?"

"Yes."

"You’ve been getting out of the house more, yes? The doctor said it would help."

"Yes," he lied, unsure of when he had last gone out before today. "I even just got back from the park."

"Oh, it's lovely there, isn't it? You should come after church on Sunday. The young adult group is having a get-together there."

"Mom, I haven't been to church in a year. Don't you think that would be a little awkward?"

"You'd meet wonderful people there and maybe even a girl?"

"Mom," John rumbled dangerously. "I told you not to mention women."

"Oh, dear, I know you lost her… lost them both. But it's been a year."

"I warned you," John cut in. "I'm hanging up now."

"Oh... well, okay, dear. Give what I said some thought. I don't want to be grandchildless forever."

"… I will," he relented reluctantly.

"Okay, bye-bye!"

"Goodbye Mom, love you."

John ended the call and inhaled deeply. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, mumbling under his breath. "She seems hyper today. Wonder if she's on the pills again."

He stomped down the hallway, kicking the broken table down the steps at the end, where he followed down.

Once there, he picked up the wood and tossed it into a scrap pile before surveying the room.

The large open basement had been converted into a train set platform. A few hundred hours of elbow grease and a few holoprojectors made for a detailed set.

Little people went about their lives on a weekly loop in real time. Little stories were woven into the whole place. Some peaceful days. Others of struggle and violent ends.

All of it was a backdrop for a set of physical trains. Models that he’d repaired and restored himself. The new ones were all plastic, clean and electric in the store. He preferred the ones with actual little steam engines.

Gas and coal trains were on the way out when he was born, but they still ran here. Refueling their small gas and coal engines on schedule from a centralized feeder, which would order more if running low.

He turned to a desk in the corner, where he saw the latest model. One a friend gave him.

But he didn't feel like working on it now.

Instead, he went to the central walkway and slipped on his wireless control band.

He found a character on a simple loop very quickly. There were thousands in the simulation, after all.

Slowly he began to adjust the character's schedule. Giving him an actual house. Fleshing out his work schedule.

Pulling up a chair, he started numbly at the previously empty house. The man materialized on the front lawn. A little family standing by him, but with a mental flick, the family was gone. John slowly worked on the guy's life.

He added a family for him at the beginning of the week. He would be bright and cheery, but on Wednesday, tragedy, his wife would drive their kids to a function, and something would happen. Something he still needed to work out.

All but one would be dead instantly, the man forced to resort to cremation to watch over the one hanging on rather than having a full burial ceremony. Friday, the last child would pass on. Leaving a broken man who would go home a mess and then and then.

John didn't want to think about them.

He ripped off the band. Hating his awful mood. With a tiss he cleared his changes. Leaving the small world he turned red-eyed to the stairs.

He left the basement trains running. He needed that drink.

A beer from the fridge and a book on new ocean steading occupied him for the next hour before that too proved to not settle his restlessness.

Until finally, he placed it down and stepped back to the hallway. A shiver ran up his spine as he stepped under the attic drop ladder.

Looking up, he considered again for the second time that day. And this time, he relented.

Trains, watches, and drinks would not cut it this time. He needed something more visceral. Something raw and real.

Pulling on the string, he locked down the ladder before climbing into space.

Boxes, old clothes, and collections from four lifetimes cluttered the area

John pushed past, heading to the building's edge. He grabbed a stack of boxes and pulled them away to reveal a cleared-out space.

A small cushion, books, shelves, and candles.

Around the space was a faraday cage with a door he climbed into and closed behind him.

He swallowed, looking around at the collection. Once again trembling but this time with excitement. An old vice feeding his kick once again.

It started when he was young. A palm reader had given his fortune. His mom had insisted, saying it would be fun. She and his dad argued about it for hours afterward. But the idea had fascinated him. That next birthday he went heavy into magic. He wanted it all.

At first, it was simple enough, a way to deal with anxiety and his home life, but soon it became more.

It became forums, then books, then practice. Then he learned to meditate, focus and clear his mind. The diligent practice allowed him to soon reach beyond the conscious and into the unconscious.

But soon, he hit a wall.

He could slow his heartbeat, raise his body temperature, and heal quicker. But there was a limit.

These things were commonly considered impossible. His family began to discourage his 'obsession' as they put it. He only moved it underground where it grew. Soon only one word was on his mind.

Magic.

He found contacts. Spoke to mystics. Purchased books. Dove into the deepest parts of the net. He worked summer jobs to travel to forgotten holes.

Around him was the culmination of years of work and hundreds of hours of practice. All in the pursuit of magic.

Only for it all to amount to nothing.

Every psychic he met was the same: a fake. Every book of ancient magic could be disregarded or was clearly devil worship. Even the ones that said they were copies from older texts amounted to nothing.

Soon he had grown disillusioned.

Sure, he could have looked into demon worship, but even being on bad terms with God, that seemed beyond foolish. Nothing he would accept. It was just slavery.

That was until he made a hit.

An old book collection, purchased by a New York busybody in the eighteen hundreds, had gone up for sale. He had apparently been very interested in ancient European occult. So, of course, each book sold like hotcakes.

Most of it he had read before, but one book, labeled 'mental phantasm, a practical application' intrigued him. The auction curators listed it as fantasy, but he could not find such a fantasy book on record. Nor a copy of the said book anywhere.

It had cost him twelve grand, but it was a price he was all too willing to pay. It was small, next to the hours and hours it took him to translate, ultimately stretching out to a year, but the rewards were immeasurable.

The book claims to be a summation of several disciplines and their blending. It took from European alchemy, Chinese cultivation, Irish folklore, and Buddhist meditation. It spoke of the mind being like an anvil for the spirit. The hammer that could forge itself.

What it spoke of followed what he already knew but then went beyond. It required drinking concoctions most foul and tittering on madness, but he eventually broke through to something incredible.

John opened the book. Hand trembling as he did.

He had sworn off this book. Its contents had brought him what he craved, but it was dangerous.

A week before, he had lost feeling in his arm for days as his soul had been wrenched unnaturally. He had vivid dreams now. Ones far too real. More real than anything else in his life.

Still, it was like nothing else.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply and reached out.

His mind expanded to the edge of his skin, then beyond.

He focused, rereading the line.

This section promised him that he would be able to astraly project. To spiritually leave his body and not die.

The concept thrilled him as much as it filled him with dread.

He focused, and then.

He could feel it. His soul detached, his mind opened, and he could see himself… and nothing else.

Frowning, he realized he needed to calm down. Quickly he left the small corner, went back downstairs, and then to his backyard.

Sitting, he meditated there, letting himself mellow out. Expanding his mind as he sat cross-legged in the grass.

The worries and troubles of his life were pushed away, and after a minute, he reached out.

And saw himself.

And the grass, the ants. John soared above, marveling at the sights around him.

The world was filled with life, and he could feel it all. A sense of awe sunk into him.

He saw the small thin line leading from himself back to his body which seemed to be sweating suddenly.

This filled him with concern, but something caught his attention before he could.

Across the fence, he saw Mike tending to his garden, but Mike was not bright and vibrant like most of the world.

As John watched, Mike's light began to fade.

It was over before he really could process it.

Mike had fallen over. He was hacking and coughing crazily. Harder than anyone John had seen. Anyone should. Then he wasn't doing anything at all.

John watched as Mike's soul left his body.

Shocked, he instinctively followed the clump of soul stuff as it went 'up.' There, a small aperture opened, and the soul passed through.

Seeing this, something in him cried out against it, so he rushed after grasping for the soul, only for it to slip between his ethereal fingers.

It was then that things went from bad to worse.

The hole began to suck him in.

John struggled. Trying to pull himself away and back to his body, he grabbed the little string connecting them. He watched as his body began to convulse and as he struggled for more strength.

He watched as his body fell over and died. His heart ripped itself to pieces in a matter of moments.

And John fell into the hole.

Time had little meaning here.

John needed to find out how long he had moved or when he had stopped panicking.

But years of practice helped him stay in the moment. He could feel his mind trying to unravel to slip into a state of dreams. He forced himself to focus, instinctually grabbing for some reality you would find before waking.

But there was no reality to find. Only the swirling dreams threaten to seal him into a moment or cause him to grasp some stimuli of his memories in the nothing.

The sense of sight, taste, sounds, of his tongue and spit, the hot blood running through his veins. All of it was gone leaving only his frothing emotions to anchor what was him.

Stretching out, he could perceive hundreds or millions of souls around him. A few struggled, but the vast majority seemed to be drifting listlessly down their own streams. Like jellyfish or a plastic bag on a soft wind.

And down his stream, he saw the light, so bright he could not guess if it was the gates of Heaven or the pit of Hell.

As his desire to sleep was beaten back, his mind began to rebel. His emotions and dread of facing what he deserved led to open revolts.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him. It screamed to blot out everything but itself. But John was not untrained. With a twist of thought, he cut that part off and sealed it away. Letting it scream in a small corner all its own.

Curiosity reared next. Pulling him to look into the enamoring light. Somehow he knew that desire was a one-way path to an end he didn't know if he wanted, no matter which gate he would end up facing. So that, too, was put away.

Then, what was left was dread. Creeping into his every crevice, it was the strongest of all. This, though, was his oldest foe. One he could keep at bay.

His mind flicked down to the string. He knew now what it was, not only the connection to his body but to the very anchors of his soul. And in his desperation, he had yanked his not-so-well-anchored soul and the large chunk of his strength out with it.

So unlike all the other spirits. He had some fight left.

He wrapped that string around him like a spring. Unwilling to go to the light, he pounced.

And left the stream behind.

He floated for beyond time. Beyond understanding.

He was moving in the way he had come from, but nothing seemed the same. Everything was shifting at every moment, and with no reference. He quickly became disoriented.

Around him, he sensed the feeling of waking but not to reality.

Here the current wasn't smooth. It buffeted him. Pulling at him. He was forced to hold himself together, eating into the little life he had left.

Soon John feared he would become nothing.

Desperate, he looked for anything in the void and found only the places of waking. Dreams that were like reality or, perhaps, all reality that had ever been was a dream. He was unsure.

Still, he knew he wouldn't survive.

One dream stood out to him. It pulsed with ominous energy, but like many others, he could feel something of what he knew there.

He made his choice.

And suddenly, he was awake and tumbling.

The air was freezing colder than anything he had ever known. But there was a place of warmth. In a matter of moments he had traveled there.

And nearly cried in joy.

Life.

This place had life.

But it was also a terrible place.

If the place before was a buffeting stream, this one was like a grinding wheel.

Something foreign flew through the air. Something he knew nothing about. Earth was full of motes of light, but the same space here seemed to burn with power.

He didn't have long. The energy of the place was pulling him apart, clawing into his mind.

But then suddenly, something changed. He felt himself be carried to a nearby place, and there, a body.

Everything in this world was like a miasmic fog, but somehow he had been led to this place. Something was trying to pull his mind away back to the light, to death. To rip out his very soul. But he wouldn't allow it. With a last burst of strength, he thrust down into the body. Twisting his soul into the strange anchors he found there. Forcing himself to fit this square peg into a round hole.

The lines of energy all around twisted and snapped. The energy flowed down into him. Feeling him up and wrapping around him. He felt the body shiver.

He felt flesh again, which caused a rush of euphoria through his new cortex. Only to clench as he felt no heartbeat.

This body was beyond weak. At first, he thought it was on the brink of death, but the feeling was wrong. Around this space was what he could only call the ghost of life. Not a soul. But the possibility of it. His entrance into it was like a sponge into water. It flowed and mixed with his soul, almost immediately becoming part of himself.

Soon it would be dead, and John knew he would be with it. He had no energy left to resist. His mind was too much for the flesh containing it.

Hoping he wasn't lost forever, he slowly unclenched his will feeling his mind unspool, pain slowly beginning to obliterate his thinking.

Fire roared deep in his new brain. Every nerve in the skull felt like it was being wrenched in a different direction. He felt the energy that had wrapped around him had flooded in. Then it flowed down his spine.

And there was pain.

Warmth, pressure. A swirl of unfamiliar energy swept around him. What had burned now felt like a gentle lapping.

John reveled in the sensations of life. His tiny limbs brushed over what he thought of as a horn.

He kicked, making the whole world shake.

Some understanding formed on the edge of his mind. Some obvious truth screamed at him. Something about this place.

But he wasn't concerned. He just breathed the comforting liquid as he had for an unmeasured amount of time.

Pain, though, had brought him to the present.

He focused. Barely able to pull thoughts together, he resorted to slowing down. Carefully building them one at a time. Weaving the disparate parts of himself into the vessel. He didn’t know how he was doing it or even what he was doing.

After what was perhaps hours, he realized the problem.

"I'm dying. This body cannot support me…"

The thought felt strange, but he ignored that. Deciding instead of focusing on the vessel.

He felt the parts he had absorbed in his soul. Some parts were simply now a part of him, and others were like growths in strange shapes.

This thought led to a problem. He felt his now existent little heart flutter with the effort to think of anything.

For a moment, he considered just cutting off parts of himself and sending them away, but began rebelling against the idea.

So he decided the only option was to make the vessel bigger.

He didn't know what that strange energy was that filled his being, but he would need it to have even a chance. So he reached out and pulled it in.

The burning returned.

He was colder now, but still warm.

He did his best, but something seemed to take over for him. His crude attempts had become augmented, by some pattern greater than he could possibly understand.

His back began to hurt. Like two hot brands laid down its length.

And he was spent; darkness claimed him.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, Maria.."

Slowly his thoughts unwound, leaving him only in the moment, calm and warm.

"I'm in a womb," the thought came as a rush.

Groggy, his mind came out of the fog again, his whole body sore. He choked on fluid. His situation suddenly shifted to torture.

After calming down and crying for some time, John collected himself.

He knew he had a body now. A much better situation than before, and his soul was FIRMLY attached. Extracting it now would kill him. Permanently. With no energy but to drift down the stream to the light.

"Why can't I feel my fingers? Why is my arm so thick?" he thought in this moment of clarity.

Feeling along his arm, he came to a startling realization. He wasn't human. And that something he had was hooves.

"Oh no."

He took his hoof and moved it to his face. It was jutting out, reminding him of a horse snout. Then his hoof bumped something on his forehead. It was smooth and long. A cone-shaped horn.

"What the? I have a horn on my head, four legs, and a large snout. So I am some kind of unicorn. Well, that is interesting."

Instantly his mind was filled with images of a land filled with dancing flowers and chocolate waterfalls, where everything smiled obliviously at everything that happened.

"Oh. Fuck. No. This is hell. I've died, and God has sent me to a personal Hell."

He shivered and kicked a little.

The isolation in the dark was getting to him already. He could barely fit in the pouch. Still, whatever he seemed to be, it was something far along in its gestation cycle.

He took a moment to assess what he could remember. He realized it was basically nothing. He had no short term memory. Even the last moments were slipping into a black void. He fought to remember. His head hurt.

The walls around him began to convulse and massage his whole body, pushing him to one side.

He panicked before realizing what was happening and surrendered to the coming struggle.

"Okay honey, push!" Stone gripped Sunnyfields hoof, only looking up occasionally as he checked to ensure the child was oriented correctly. His fear turned to elation as he confirmed a living foal was coming.

Sunny was pregnant for thirteen months, two more than usual. She had grown larger and needed to eat more.

He had almost packed her into the cart and taken her to the nearest city of Vanhoover.

They lived in a tiny town north of the city. One gripped by cold and isolation.

Perhaps a hundred families called the entire region home. Their small grouping of about five farms huddled a spring that was too shallow for navigation.

It was an Earth pony town and, therefore, full of tradition.

Yet, doing this was a more ancient tradition than these ponies respected, even though the Stronghoofs were new to the town.

Stone Stronghoof had taken his wife's name on their marriage, as was her family's tradition.

Most of the year, the town couldn't get to the city. Her insistence meant he had been forced to wait until after winter cleared. Timing had once again been against him, so his wife must endure.

"AH! *Gasp* Oh, I am, dearie. This only gets a little easier each time."

He knew that this would probably be their last pregnancy. His son was one of the two pegasi who lived in the town. His two daughters, one Earth pony and the other a pegasi, spent their days weaving clothes to trade with other families in this cold north. They were getting old.

Now he was only a few seconds away from seeing what his youngest would be. He smiled and reached down to pull his child out of the womb. His eyes widened, and there was a horn on its head. Something he had begun to wonder if it would ever occur.

"You're doing great, honey. I can see the head. It's a unicorn!" he exclaimed as the child finally emerged.

"OH! DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT! I JUST PUSHED IT OUT!" She laughed roughly, sweat pouring off of her.

Her husband laughed in return but stopped suddenly.

Stone was staring at their son. His hooves cut the umbilical cord almost as an afterthought. Turning him over to confirm what he saw, the father did not breathe, even as his hoof smacked the colt's bottom and made it cry.

On the young colt's back was a pair of wings. The stallion turned him back over and pulled off the protective coating over his horn before he picked up the foal, turned around, and placed him on the nearby table.

Using the cotton cloth there, he began to clean the child and taking a knife cut away his covers.

"I was wrong, it seems… he's a pegacorn."

"A pegacorn?" the wife asked as she slid up to clean herself. "Is the horn his primary?"

Stone could hear the excitement in his wife's voice. None of their children had been a unicorn; he knew she had wished for that.

He ran his hoof down the horn, feeling the static charge on his Earth pony hooves.

Stone smiled, knowing that magic ran through the horn. His wife would have someone to teach a little.

Next, though, he moved to carefully examine the wings.

Depending on their atrophy, they could be debilitating. He may even have to pay in Vancouver to remove them to save the foals' life.

The colt continued to cry as Stone stretched out his wings, only to frown.

He felt a slight breeze as he spread the primaries.

Lifting them up, he held one still about a foot from a nearby candle.

His eyes widened as the flame slipped into the horizontal line.

"…Amazing. He has dominant wings AND horn."

"Really?" Sunny replied incredulously. Trotting up to his side.

She picked up the foal. Performing the same test with the wing before brushing back her own hair.

There was a brown flat of a horn, calloused over from long ago.

Leaning down, she touched her horn to his.

"You're right!" she exclaimed before suddenly frowning. "But that's impossible, unless."

She looked at her husband. A small glimmer of fear entered her eye.

"Check his hooves."

"Sunny," Stone whispered, hugging his wife. A growing horror in her eyes.

"Please, Stone. You would know better."

Stone stood still for a moment before reaching to pull over a small empty pot of dirt. He took the little hoof and placed it in, his eyes staring intently. After a few moments, a tiny green stalk broke the ground's surface.

"An alicorn," Stone whispered.

The baby alicorn wailed as the two ponies wiped his bone-white mane and tail. His pitch-black hooves were kicking into the air.

Once clean, she cooed, watching him until his deep emerald blue eyes opened.

"He's beautiful… Stone, what are we going to do? If Celestia finds out." She sniffed, eyes watering

"I don't know, buttercup, but I do know this, we have to keep this in the family. The queen would not want the competition. She would take him away, or worse."

"After coming so far. We, we–" The mare broke out into tears.

"There there, dear. We are safe. Far away from her. We can raise him with peace and love."

"You're-you're right. I just-” She swallowed back, her sob controlling herself. “I'm afraid."

He frowned a moment before leaning in close to kiss her.

"We've been through worse. If we do it together. Herridon is far away. Now, come on, he needs to suckle."

The newborn was not happy. He was freezing, his backside had been savagely beaten, and now this lady was pushing him against a teat. Hunger overrode any other need.

"What about a name?" asked Sunny Fields.

Stone seemed to consider for a time before

"It's too grand for a normal pony, but he is ment for grand things." Stone placed his hoof on the young child's head. "I name you Mordane Stronghoof."

"Yes," she whispered, looking at the little suckling alicorn. "A good name. A strong name."

Nuzzling close, the two sat quietly as they contemplated the future.

Time Sweetly Spent

Author's Note

AN: This is the rewritten version of Mordane chapter two. Please check my blogpost for further details.

Time Sweetly Spent

“Mordane?”

He stirred, head rolling as he woke up, yawning.

His muscles felt stretchy, and his skin pulled taut. Like he had spent a day in the sun and dried out. With trembling hooves, he pushed himself into a sitting position and opened his eyes.

A large creature, from his perspective, the mare looked down at him in the small crib, her eyes practically sparkling over a grin.

“You already know your name? Ohhh,” she cooed, reaching down to pick him up.

As she did so, the fog slipped from his mind, and once again, he was entirely himself. A headache threatening to surge ahead.

”I can mostly understand her now. Is this what learning is like for a newborn?” He yawned, fighting off the urge to sleep. The room he was in seemed similar to when he had last been aware leading him to believe he was slowly settling in. The headaches like static slowly shifting into tune.

“One month old and already responding to his name.” Stone trotted out of Mordane’s sight. “Guess that is what we can expect from an alicorn.”

“Shush. Though he does worry me, he rarely cries.”

“It's okay, dear. Isn’t it, little guy?”

Mordane turned, blinking a few times. He mouthed the word for dear.

“Oh, his head swiveled to you. That's really early as well.”

“He’ll be speaking pretty soon at this rate, come to think of it. Isn’t he a little bigger than yesterday?”

Seeing the mare something in him welled up the word ‘mom’ but another name snapped into focus.

“Well, he has been feeding a lot. Let me weigh him again.” She frowned and trotted across the room before moving Mordane onto a bed of straw.

With his heightened mental state, he could tell it was a kitchen weighing scale of some kind. Primitive in design but sturdy. From the click of stones, he guessed she was adding weight to the other side.

“… And three more stones than last week.”

“Whoa.”

John’s ear twitched. He recognized that new voice. And sure enough, his new brother’s head poked over the basket edge.

“What was his name again?” Mordane thought before it came to him.

“Flashwung!” Mordane gurgled in his tiny voice.

The young colt shouted excitedly, hopping across the room with a broad smile to embrace Mordane with his wings.

Mordane immediately broke from his swaddle and flapped his wings, making his brother slide wide-eyed to a stop.

“Shhh, quiet, Mordane.”

“Mom,” Little Flashwing reached out, looking at Mordane’s hooves as his eyes widened.

“Brother is an alicorn—”

He was cut off by Stone, who clamped a hoof over his mouth.

“Quiet colt! Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

Flashwing shrunk back, looking up at his glowering father. “But why? Won’t that make him a prince? Would that make me a-”

“No, boy, no,” Stone chastised. “It wouldn’t. Remember your stories. Celestia banished her own sister. How much worse would it be for someone, not her kin, to take even a bit of her power?”

Gaping again, the colt's eyes began to water as he whimpered.

“Shh, you're scaring him, dear.” Sunnyfield glared at Stone and pulled Flashwing into a hug. “Don't worry. We are far away from the Sun Tyrant. Luna will guard our dreams and little Mordane. Just. don’t speak about what he is where a neighbor might hear.”

“I’m sorry, son.” Stone reached over to rub Flashwings head. “You are a good colt. Just be more careful, okay?”

“I will, Papa. I’ll protect Mordane. I promise.”

John wobbled around the small room. It had been a few weeks since coming to this world and it was still mentally taxing to move his tiny hooves across the impacted earth.

He was desperate to avoid the two little demons pretending to be his sisters lest they start pinching and poking his sensitive skin again. In his mouth, he carried his mother's small mirror.

The hovel he found himself in was strange, to say the least. The walls were smooth cut stone, worn with age and weathering, while the floor was dirt and gravel stomped flat by hard hooves.

He dodged around Flashwing, who was bolting for the front door. He made it across the room, his wings flopping and horn sparking, before tossing the mirror onto a raised chair and climbing up after it.

Once up there, he surveyed his new world.

The hovel was about twenty by ten in size; one side was taken up by the kitchen and the sitting area, while the other had dressers and mats for sleeping.

The smell of what seemed like oatcakes cooking on the wood stove mixed with hickory and applewood, a small stack chimney leading it to the outside.

He hid from his two sisters as they ran past.

Across the room, a stone fireplace burned, fighting against the chill from outside. In the corner, a crank phonograph played. Its simple tune sounded tinny as it echoed quietly off the walls.

The curtains were pulled open on the window, letting him see the blue sky and green hills beyond. Tiny flowers and daffodils could be seen swaying in the chilled breeze. In the distance, he could see a tower, its roof caved in, and a small herd of sheep grazing around its base.

It was beautiful.

John closed his eyes, feeling the wind blow through his hair as another moment of clarity washed over him.

He thought of his home. His train set, his house, and his family.

His lip trembled at the overwhelming loss.

He did not know how he had managed to get to this place, but he would not be able to return. Nor would a body be waiting for him.

By now, he was likely buried and rotting. His home is on the market, and his mother fretting over what to keep and toss.

Screaming with his father just because she couldn’t deal with it.

He opened his eyes, wiping away the tears before looking down at the wet patch on his hoof. Face twisting in disgust.

“I’m better than this.” Hardening his heart, he looked out the window again with an objective eye.

“Mordane,” he whispered. Feeling it curl throughout his mouth. “That's my name now.”

“Mordane,” he said again, swinging in his seat.

A sickly laugh tried to work its way out, but Mordane pushed it down. He pushed the mirror up against the chairs back till he could see his image.

Looking back at him was definitely a pony. A ‘colt’ from what his parents had said.

His emerald blue eyes reminded him of the sea and matched with his new mother’s. His coat was light brown, and slightly lighter brown hooves matched his new father's. This was topped by a stony gray mane that matched none of the other family members.

“This is me,” he said softly. “I’m Mordane, a pony. A unicorn, pegasus thing.”

He took a shaking breath before sitting in front of the mirror.

“Yes. I’ll live as Mordane Stronghoof.”

It was a good day for him. Finally! He would no longer have to drink milk from the mare and they had finally set some food in front of him.

However, his pride was too great to be fed. The breastfeeding may have been necessary, but he would eat the mashed-up peas alone!

Sunny Fields tried everything, but young Mordane would not eat no matter what. In the end, she put the spoon down in the bowl and went to scold one of the other children.

Mordane moved his hoof over to the spoon. Months of watching the others had given him the confidence to hold it. However, seeing and knowing is different from doing. When the mother returned, he was still trying to pick up the spoon with one hoof. Quickly, he clamped both hooves on the short handle, dipped it in the peas, and put them in his mouth.

Sunny could not believe what she was seeing. The baby was feeding himself! Though he seemed unable to hold the spoon with one hoof.

She smiled big, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Not like that, my little Morty. Hold it like this.”

She pulled the spoon from his mouth, setting it in the bowl again. Taking one of his hooves, she held it to the spoon.

Mordane frowned, trying to flex his hoof to grip, but he felt something.

A strange force emanated from his mother's hoof like it was suddenly oozing a warm sticky field. It grabbed his hair as she had him scoop his food and put it into his mouth.

“Good! Now yourself.”

Mordane frowned as she moved her hoof away, but he tried to remember the sensation. Placing his own hoof on the spoon, he forced himself to reach.

And the spoon clicked to his hoof.

Excitedly he lifted the spoon but found that it spun in his hoof. His mother laughed as he put it down and tried again. Her eyes winded slightly as he lifted them successfully this time and began to eat, slow and steady.

“You’re doing amazing, dear!” She kissed him, turning away to leave him before adding softly. “as expected.”

“I’m gonna catch you!” screamed Merry chasing a giggling Berry in circles.

Stone smiled, seeing his small girls before his mirth faded seeing Mordane. He was sitting near the fireplace.

Mordane rarely spoke. He was coming up on a year old but was still not allowed outside.

And Stone was starting to get worried.

Mordane spent much of his time with the book his mother had started teaching him words from, and Stone was beginning to expect he had already picked it up. He only occasionally pointed at a word in the book that his mother would tell him.

Stone could tell that Mordane understood what they were saying. He seemed to pick up words like a sponge soaked up water.

However, except for a few words, he basically never spoke.

“Mordane,” he said, causing the small colt to turn to him. “Take this cup to your mother.”

A test.

He placed down the cup and a plate. The little colt looked up at him, nose scrunching a little before wobbling over to the cup and picking it up. He then pointed at the plate.

“I’ll get that myself,” Stone replied as he shuffled through a newspaper.

Mordane looked at him for a few moments before waddling off to the other side of the room toward the kitchen.

Sunnyfield looked at him knowingly, causing Stone to smile. He decided not to worry; Mordane would talk when he was ready.

Mordane handed over the cup and was rewarded with a head pat and cookie as he turned.

“Hey, no fair. Stop!” Merry shouted, taking a detour to the kitchen.

Stone's heart jumped; he wasn't sure how he foresaw the disaster. Perhaps the way Merry had been looking back or how the pot was closer to the edge than usual.

He was rushing over even as the disaster began to unfold.

Mordane was sitting beside the stove. Occasionally pointing to a word to have his mother say it. Then Berry turned to crash into the counter next to the stove. The shaking slowly tipped the large pot of boiling water.

Which tipped right over Mordane.

Stone arrived just in time. He roared in pain as the boiling water poured over his back.

Sunnyfields screamed in horror as she grabbed her water bucket and threw the contents onto his back to cool.

Stone stood tall as a tower. He was barely trembling as his wife moved quickly to throw moist towels over him.

However, Stone just looked down at the little Mordane. His eyes were soft and relieved.

“A-are you okay, son?”

An hour later, Stone was sitting in the bed with his wife rubbing salve onto the burns. Mordane had climbed onto the bed beside his parents to look at the wounds.

"If he had hesitated, I would be dead. There is no way my small form could've survived that. He just threw himself over me." Mordane thought

For the first time, the human-turned-pony looked into the eyes of the mare who birthed him, really looked, and saw the love for him there. A part of him that had doubted that love was swept away. Then he looked at the stallion who took on pain, so he would not. Instead of a pony bound by an obligation, he saw a stallion full of honor and strength.

His father's eyes fluttered open. "Are you alright, Mordane?" Tears came to the colt’s eyes.

After a moment, Mordane finally spoke, "I- I love you, dad." Mordane's eyes opened wide at the tiny voice, reflecting the shocked expressions on his mother’s and father’s faces. "I love you both."

The two parents had only been as happy three other times in their lives. They hugged him as his father winced in pain.

"They are nothing like my par- no, they are my parents. I am home."

And for the first time, he felt like he just might be Mordane Stronghoof.

It wasn’t long after that Mordane was allowed to leave home and explore the area, though he was forbidden from getting outside of sight of home.

He also had to promise to wear a cloak at all times and never show his wings to anyone.

His older brother excitedly showed him around the tiny village. Though calling it a village would be a stretch.

There were four families within the village with 20 buildings. Theirs was the only one with children, and from what Mordane had heard, the rest were ready to leave at any time.

The road was an ancient cobbled path that led north into the wilderness, while the actual road to civilization went south and was dirt.

“You're gonna love this, Mordane.” Flashwing flew with Mordane on his back, giving Mordane an expansive view.

Rolling hills as far as the eyes could see and a few fields surrounding their tiny village. In the distance was an extensive mountain range.

“What are those mountains called?”

“Crystal Mountains, Edge of the frozen north.”

Down below, he could see his father working the land with three others. They worked along a narrow river with irrigation ditches.

While the village looked rundown, Mordane could see the outlines of more buildings no longer standing.

As they approached the tower, Mordane realized something.

“It's quartz!”

The tower was a solid piece with a wooden structure on top. It appears as a solid white cristal stretching out of the grass.

“Let's land there!” Mordane exclaimed, pointing at the tower.

“Okay, hang on!” Flashwing tilted down, coming to a landing.

The tower itself was even stranger up close. On the wooden palisade at the top, Mordane could see the seal of Equestria. He had seen one in the book his mother had given him. Its gold filigree was still brilliant, but the iron was rusted and potted beyond even the worth of salvage. The wooden structure seemed ready to blow off in the following wind and could be heard to creak and groan.

The column it sat on, though, was pristine, and on the entrance, he could see a seal in the shape of a heart.

“Is that the Crystal Empire’s seal?”

“Yeah, the Crystal Empire no longer exists. They say it was destroyed long ago by Discord. At least, that's what mom said.”

“If I was guessing, I’d say Equestria took over later but it doesn’t know how to make this crystal stuff.” Mordane gave the tower a slight kick. “I wonder why they didn’t make the wall from it.”

“The wall?” His brother quickly flew around the tower. “I don’t see a wall.”

“Look at the bend of the land. It's been raised, and a moat lowered. They definitely had a wall there, but one of stone. You can see the remnants lying around.”

Mordane trotted up into the open doorway. The inside was barren save for the piles of dues and tufts of grass growing on them. The walls allow light to pass through, lighting up the interior.

“Mordane? Be careful!”

He could barely reach the steps, but Mordane moved up the stairs as quickly as he could. At the top, he carefully placed his hoof down on the wooden floor.

He began to explore.

The room seemed to have been occupied in the last few years before being quickly abandoned. A few raised platforms for mats, a rack for spears, and a space for hanging packs. There were also two chests. The first was empty, but the second contained several wooden dishes and metal utensils.

Grinning, Mordane took the dinnerware and wrapped it up in a cloth he found. Then he went into the central tower before jumping onto the seal, he waved at Flashwing, who swooped back to grab him.

“What did you find?”

“Some utensils! Let's drop them off. I wanna see that town you talked about.”

“There? I don’t know, it's pretty depressing.”

“Come ooon. I’m curious.” Mordane climbed back onto his back.

“Uhhh, okay, fine.”

Stopping by the hovel, they dropped Mordanes' finds, which got him a crushing hug before heading off.

Flying high, they headed north.

Mordane's breath was taken. Unlike the quick trip before, this one had them go high into the air.

The mountains were covered in white caps sitting above rolling hills of green.

As they flew on, Mordane shivered. The air became noticeably cooler the closer they came to the Crystal mountains.

It wasn’t long until they came upon the few stone buildings sitting in a clearing.

Trees were dotted around, and Mordane was surprised to see another crystal tower with no structure on top.

The two of them landed on top. What Mordane now saw held a slight lip and surface the other structure had been set upon.

“Why was the village abandoned?” he whispered quietly.

“Probably the cold. Do you feel that? It's what, early fall? This place is already as cold as winter. I doubt you can grow anything here anymore.”

But Mordane could see where the fields had been, now overgrown with shrubs and small trees.

“Will our village be like this one day?” Mordane asked softly.

“Yeah, probably. Winter is getting longer, according to the old Patterhoof. He’s been in our village his whole life. Says winter comes a week earlier than when he was a foal.”

Mordane scrunched his nose. Trying to wrap his head around this idea. Perhaps this planet was undergoing an ice age, or maybe it was magic.

Shaking his head, he turned to grin at his brother.

“It was really pretty flying here.”

“Yeah, it is.” Flashwing sighed.

“... do you think you can teach me to fly?” Mordane asked quietly.

Flashwing frowned before reaching over to lift Mordanes wing cloak, then a wing.

“Huh, your primaries are in. Old Patterhoof said that means you can fly outside. I’ll ask mom, but we will have to wait till next spring, winter is coming soon. Lots of sudden gusts from the mountains.”

Mordane nodded, turning to look back out at the waste for a short while. His ears drooped.

Flashwing reached out and scooped him close with a wing.

“Let's head back. In a few minutes. We don’t want dad to know we got out of sight of home,” Mordane mumbled.

“Yeah, let's pick up some wood for the Soles; they probably forgot to again."

Mordane clung to his brother for a few seconds longer than needed as he marveled at the warmth blossoming in his chest.

The sun was low, Mordane stared into the fireplace enjoying the light and warmth from the wood he had collected.

“Come here.” Mordane’s ears perked up and he trotted over to his mother's mat.

She held at her hooves, pulling him in close. “You did well today,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” Mordane mumbled.

“What's wrong?”

“I was just thinking about the future of our town.”

“Big thoughts for such a little pony.”

“It's just. I’m wondering if we will need to move one day closer to Equestria.”

“Shh. don’t worry. The cold won’t make it this far until your grandfoals grand-” She stopped for a moment before starting again. “It will be a thousand moons before we have to leave.”

“I’ll never see that, hahaha! But that's not what I meant.”
Sunnyfields sat silently, the crackle of the fire filling the room as Flashwing and Stone sat near the fire.

“Let me tell you a story. It's an old one.”

Mordane waited for her to begin. Letting his eyes rest. She sat Mordane in front of her tilting up his chin. Mordane’s ears perked up. “Over a thousand years ago, in the blessed land of Equestria.”

“There were two regal sisters who brought harmony throughout the land. Celestia ruled the day, and Luna the night. By the grace of harmony, they were brought into this world with a destiny, a destiny to move the sun and moon across the sky and guard little ponies against those evil forces from the north. Thus, they maintained the balance of the three pony races for a time.”

Mordane nodded, his ears cocked forward.

“Celestia was big and strong. She wielded the fires of the sun and her hammer to fight against the dark, evil, and cold. Luna slipped into shadows and dreams. Guarding against the evil found there. But in time, Celestia grew hot and bright. The light of her own brilliance blinded her. She grew too blind, and the shadows of her heart were too deep. So reluctantly, Luna turned against her. They fought, and they clashed. The mountains themselves shook with their power until the younger sister lay defeated and cast into the sky. You can see her face on the moon, still watching and protecting her ponies. Celestia stood triumphant, but diminished. Luna fought her for control of the heavens. Even now, she is keeping Celestia locked in her Canterlot tower in a daily struggle. For if the moon were to anchor in the sky and stay for but a time, then Celestia’s magic would be broken. Perhaps one day the sisters shall heal, or Luna will reign.”

Mordane shook his head.

“Doesn’t Celestia rule Equestria?”

“Yes, she has for a thousand years,” Stone spoke up, shifting in his chair.

“But.”

“Harmony gives us all the talent needed to meet our destiny. All ponies need day and night, and so the two of them were given the gift of eternal youth.” Mordane looked down at his hooves, his brow furrowed.

“... Is this why I need to hide?”

Stone stood up and placed his hoof on Mordanes head.

“She banished her own sister. I cannot imagine what she would do to an alicorn that doesn’t share her blood.”

Mordane slowly nodded, his mouth pressed into a firm line.

“Seven plus four is, what?” Mordane asked, looking at his brother expectantly.

“Uhh, eleven?”

“Yeah!” Mordane beamed.

“Awesome!” Flashwing grinned.

“You’re getting the hang of it now.”

“What are you boys doing?” Sunnyfields asked, coming in from the garden.

“Mordane is teaching me math.” Flashwing trotted away from the short table to her, offering to take the food.

Sunnyfields stopped mid-hoofing them over. “... what?”

“Mordane is teaching me math.”

She hoofed over the carrots smiling at Flashwing.

“That's great. Take these to the back and stock them, okay?”

“Sure thing, mom.” Flashing trotted out the backdoor. Mordane started backing away the charcoal and wood state they had been writing with, but Sunnyfields trotted up to stop him.

“Let me see.”

Mordane sheepishly hoofed over the slate, standing nervous as she looked it over. She gently stroked his face to comfort him even as her eyes widened.

“Mordane.”

“Yes, mom?”

“What is twelve plus three minus seven?”

Mordane was silent for a moment, considering if he should lie, then nearly smacked his head at the silly impulse. He had already decided to teach. There was no reason to lie. But even though the cause was there, he still had to fight through a shaking voice.

“E-Eight.”

“... how did you learn this?”

“Well, when you read me the story scroll, I was able to figure out what sounds make what symbols.”

“You did?” She said softly. “That's,” she coughed. “Good, Mordane. That's very good. But I see your spelling on some of the words up here is wrong. We will need to go over that.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No! No, this is very good. Can you read it as well?” She sat down on the slate before facing him with a bright smile.”

“It's… a little slow. I’d like more books to practice with.”

“Hmm, well. We only have a few. Tell you what, we have some savings. When your father goes to Manehattan next spring, he will purchase more. Until then…”

Turning to a cabinet, Sunnyfields reached the top before pulling down a bound book. Hoofing it over to Mordane.

“Wow, is this a real book?”

“Yes. Treat it with reverence. A cow gave its skin so it could be bound.”
Mordane nearly dropped the book at that, but the title overrides any desire to ever let it go.

Magic:
All you need to know about basic spells and a brief summary of their nature.
A Self-help Guide
Written by Star Swirl the Bearded
Copied by Silver Pen

“I learned from that book myself,” Sunnyfields said.

“Read through it slowly.”

“I will, mom, and if I have any questions I’ll ask you.”

Sunnyfields smile faded as her ears wilted.

“I’m sorry, son, I couldn’t help you more.” She reached up, touching her broken horn.

Mordane jumped up to give her a hug and told her “It's okay, Mom, I’ll be careful” before running off to a corner and opening it to give a read. What surprised him at first was how large the print was. Just like the scrolls and just how few pages a book like this had.

Most pages had only a few lines with pictures drawn to illustrate. It was far different from what he remembered as a human.

The first thing I must say concerning magic is. There is neither a greater tool nor a more powerful weapon. Magic can rend souls, bend wills, and kill with the utmost ease. In fact, it is too easy. Most unicorns who try to teach themselves beyond the most basic telekinesis die. They die in fire and blood, frozen and impaled. So, my suggestion to you is to put this book down and go get a teacher. I do not care how talented you are. Nopony should teach themselves magic, unless there is no one around to teach them. This is my final warning. Magic will kill you without the utmost control. Think carefully before proceeding.

I see. So you are resolute. Then I will do my best to teach you. At least you did not try to cast spells on your own. It is unlikely you would have survived. Please read these chapters carefully. Memorize them until you can recite them by heart, for any mistakes will kill you.

The Nature of Magic
Magic is the manipulation of rules. This manipulation can be split into three categories: Force, Binding, and Making.

Force: This is the manipulation of a rule, such as to counteract gravity or heat something up.

Binding: This is taking two existing rules and connecting them, such as making a sword able to burst into flame by having it absorb heat from sunlight.

Making: This is the creation of new rules. Whatever they may be.

The first question one may ask is what a rule is. You are a rule. I am a rule. Gravity is a rule. All things that exist and affect other things are rules. Your body is one such rule, while your spirit is another.

There are physical rules and intangible ones, but they all are just as binding.

There is one rule that cannot be broken. You cannot make something from nothing or cause something to cease.

Energy must always be moved, never unmade. If you try to make energy, you will fail and receive a headache. However, if you try to unmake something, then you will be utterly destroyed. The parts that make you will be torn away with no hope of survival or recovery. If you want to destroy something, just break it apart. Do not try to make it cease to exist.

The Pony Races

1. Unicorns: The most gifted in the magic of the races. They have the ability to reach out and draw on the magic around them with their minds. This allows them to have conscious control of its effects.

2. Pegasi: This race’s magic naturally helps them manipulate gravity. They are far lighter than they should be, about 1/4 their weight, without magic. This is caused by a binding that forms naturally at birth. This is also how they walk on clouds.

3. Earth Ponies: The manipulation of relative density accounts for all of the earth ponies’ abilities. Not to say that their mass changes, but that it behaves as if it changes.

Your First Spell

The first spell to learn is levitation. It is by far the easiest to accomplish and can be done in three easy steps.

1. Feel the energy within you.

2. Direct that energy around the object you wish to move.

3. Believe it can be moved and will do so.

This is the most basic form of levitation. Be careful to not let your mind wander, and then give it a try.

Mordane read through slowly, stopping to ask his mother what certain words were. Then he read through it again and again. Faster the third time, knowing the words. Making sure he hadn’t missed anything before calling out to Sunnyfields.

“Mom, I’m ready to try.”

“Already? You only got the book earlier today.”

“Yes. Thank you for your help. I believe I understand it. “ He waved his hoof with a small grin on his lips. “Magic is all around us. It penetrates us and binds this world together.”

“Hmm, not really, son,” she said, “It's more than that, magic is laid over the world. It is bound by the stronger will. It doesn’t make the world, but it does shape it.”

Mordane nodded. “So you have to give it a new rule. One that is more insistent than the normal rules?”

“Yes. That and provide the energy. Your well can only store so much,” she said, tapping his chest. ”You must use that energy to draw in fire from around you.”

“Okay. I think I get it now.”

Mordane sat down and closed his eyes.

Will was something he knew of. Though it has been just over five years, those skills never truly leave you.

He breathed, reaching into himself, and there he found a space like a small bucket. Full of energy. Calling it up to his horn, he could feel it flow through mana veins like those shown in the text.

“Good! Now hold it. Find the book with your magic,” his mother encouraged.

Mordane tried but splitting his attention proved too much. With a crack, he felt the energy leave him a little tired.

“Try again, dear. Keep your eyes open. It helps.”

Mordane nodded, opening his eyes and glaring at the book. His cheeks were a bit red.

“Stupid magic,” he thought, “if it's just this, I should have been able to do it. I must do it!”

He gritted his teeth. A flare came from his small horn, reaching out to the book.

‘Move’ he mentally insisted.

The book did not comply.

“Move,” he insisted, still the book seemed unaffected.

“YOU WILL OBEY!” he mentally shouted. “MOVE!”

Shakingly a blue arora covered the book, and it slipped into the air after a moment.

Mordane beamed, shouting, “I did it!”

Causing his horn to wink out and him to grow in frustration even as his mother laughed.

The winter was long and harsh. Mordane's birthday came and went, leaving him six years old.

He had been practicing magic regularly with his mother in the garden. Still left to his own devices, he often devoured all the books in the village a half dozen times to appease his curiosity. He would have started asking to do chores but seeing his brother let him know that no allowance would be incoming. Though his brother did get some extra income by charging for his weather control in nearby villages, that path wasn’t open to him.

Mordane instead became a scribe. Several locals could neither read nor write, including in the nearby towns. So they would come, and he would charge a sum to write and read their letters.

Then, he learned exactly what the tax rates were like in Equestria.

“I knew this world was primitive, but thirty percent?” The scale of the tax really shocked him. Historically on earth, the rates could have been higher, but he wasn’t sure how anypony could survive if they were.

Mordane found out shortly after the break of spring.

It was a typical day when a pony from the neighboring village further south came running into town. The fieldworkers heard his shouting and quickly rushed to meet him.

Mordane had been busy reading when the pony came running up with tears in his eyes.

“Colt, colt! Please, I don’t have any coin, but you must read this. You must.”

“Featherweight? What's wrong? I’ll read it. Come on. I know you will pay me later.”

He shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes.

“No, colt, I won’t be able to. I think they are taking me farm.”

“Your farm?” Mordane gasped as his father and other stallions rushed up.

Mordane floated over the letter. Taking a moment to read it aloud.

To Featherweight. Farmer
From, Her Royal Majesty's treasurer.

In lue of paying taxes, you are hereby ordered to report to Maypony for the season of Autumn

Please note that this will be for taxes you currently owe, not those of next year.

Signed. Royal Treasure.

“Oh, Celestia,” hissed Old Sole. “I got to go.”

He turned and sped off, running to his house and shouting for Peapod to hide the dried fruit.

“Mordane. Go to your mother. Flashwing is in Clearwater out west, so he should be okay. He knows what to do. Let your mother know and do as she says.”

Mordane nodded, jumping up and grabbing his book.

“And hide that book!”

“What are we gonna do, Stone? There's no way we can make winter if–”

Mordane dashed to their home. Finding his mother tending the garden, he slid to a stop.

“Mordane! What did I tell you about rushing up on me like that!?”

“Mom! The Royal taxpony. The royal taxpony is coming. I don’t know what that means, but–”

“Oh, ponyfeathers,” his mother cursed. “I take it back. Hoof me that book.”

Mordane did so as she turned and ran in. Shouting at him to float things over as she dragged out their eating grain barrel. Now half full and an empty one.

She grabbed a sheet and laid it over the barred opening before things. A metal pot. A bag of sweetroot. A crate of honey before Mordane finished placing what she had called for. Anything made of metal. Anything they had spent coin on when the trader came to town.

She folded the sheet, leaving all the items in the barrel, before taking her large cutting board and wedging it in.

“Come on, Mordane, help me.” She grunted as she tilted over the grain into the now half-full barrel. Filling it up the rest of the way.

Mordane did the best he could to help, and when she finished, he started floating single kernels into the barrel that had fallen to the side even as she scooped up hoof fulls of them.

“What is different about a royal tax pony?” Mordane asked, gasping.

“They come from Celestia herself. They're not from the local lord. It means she will levy an extra tax this year.”

“More tax!” Mordane gasped. “But–”

“Shhh, quiet. Eat this apple, core and all.” She thrust it to him. “Go stand outside.”

Mordane saw she was holding a small leather purse. One they kept under the mattress. She had a grim look on her face.

“Mother has to hide the purse. Go outside and roll in the dirt. Make your cloak look dirty, okay?”

Mordane nodded and ran out the door, jumping into the currently empty garden bed. Rolling around for a minute.

He then curled up next to the door.

A minute later, his mother came trotting out, her hair now in a bun, coming to sit down and fused over Mordanes cloak.

“Whatever happens, you cannot let them find out you have wings and a horn, okay?” She picked him up, taking him to an old broken barrel next to their house. “Stay in here, don’t come out no matter what.”

Mordane nodded, pulling his cloak close. The barrel smelled of sawdust and mites, but he made sure to pull back into the darkness.

It didn’t take long for his father to return, his parents exchanging a few whispered words before Stone looked over to the barrel. Then to the sky, as the other towns' ponies gathered.

A few minutes later, Mordanes' heart began to pound as a chariot came to a landing. He had been in this world for six years and had grown used to the dirty nature of things. Dirt just went everywhere, and you couldn’t really get clean. Not like back on earth.

At least, that is what he had thought.

Two pegasi pulled a unicorn to a standstill in the street. Their armor was bright and clean as their fur color. Brilliant white.

He didn’t need to know much about magic to know that these ponies were heavily enchanted. The sky had dimmed ever so slightly. Their armor was uniform, with a large shaped crystal in the chest piece. A crystal, he surmised, to sustain the illusion placed over them.

Mordane was struck by the uniformity of the two stallions, and he tried to imagine why someone would do such a thing.

But it was not hard to think.

One action by a guard would be taken as an action by any guard, with no personal glory or recognition. If you were to report a guard, what would you even say? Under anonymity, one of these guards could do anything, anything at all, then go home safe in the knowledge they could not be identified. It reminded him of stormtrooper helmets.

The stallions snorted as they landed, moving in unison as they unhooked their bridle.

In the chariot the two pegasi had carried, a thin, tall unicorn stallion stood floating an open paper book beside him with a cover marked the current year and was bound in leather. Something Mordane knew to be a luxury even if it felt somehow wrong for ponies.

The unicorn looked up with a sour look on his face.

“Where are the others?” he said flatly, looking at Stone.

“... others?”

“The others of your town. Come now, dirt pony; I know it may be hard for you to keep up, but please pay attention. I am here as a representative of the realm.” He turned up his nose. “And you shall address me as My lord.”

“... my lord,” Stone said, looking down the road at nothing. “Please forgive my rudeness and slowness. I only wish to answer your question as correctly as possible. I’m afraid I don’t know what others you are referring to.”

“The other town ponies! There are at least twenty ponies in this town. Why have so few come out to meet me?”

“My lord, this town's population is only twelve, including my family.”

“Twelve? Really, then why so many houses?” he asked, eyes glaring.

“I’m sorry, lord, but the good land is shrinking here. Many ponies could move further south. We earth ponies are tied to the land, but if the land is to turn fallow, none would wish to set down generational roots.”

“I see,” his irritation was prevalent. “Unfortunately, I have accounts to balance, and the amount must be met. It is by the royal authority, after all.”

“... of course,” mumbled Stone.

The pony opened his book, asking each family how many they had and their names.

Once getting back to Stone, he asked for more.

“And your family. Stone was it?” Stone stood silent for a moment. Every stallion tensed up as he did so.

“I remind you, this is the royal tax pony,” one of the guards snapped.

“Four members, one foal.”

“Children? Only ones in the village. Where are they?”

“Out of town,” Stone grunted.

“I see. Well then, what was your town's yield?”

Everypony stiffened. Mordane's heart skipped as well.

Typically, taxes were paid by the head, but asking for the yield could only mean that they would take a percentage of the crop.

“... Twelve parcels.”

"Then the tax will be eight parcels.” Everypony shivered. Several of the elderly ponies sat in shock.

The tax pony seemed unconcerned, marking down his notes before turning to the second cart.

“Go to the local mill. You there.” He pointed to Stone and another. “Follow them and load the grain.”

Stone's face kept his namesake as he followed as the cart started downtown street. The unicorn was tissing as he worked more. Ponies began to break away to head back to their homes, heads hanging low.

A few minutes later, he looked up again.

“You, mare. Is this your home?”

“Yes.”

“Search it,” he stated.

The stallions stomped past Sunnyfield moving into their home.

Mordane cocked an ear, hearing the sounds of slamming draws and the crash of a plate.

He shook in rage as he watched his mother's head droop.

“You're rather small for a dirt pony mare.” the stallion said suddenly.

Sunnyfields said nothing, continuing to look at the ground.

“Hmm.” The stallion's horn began to glow, his magic gathering quickly to pulse out. The wave splashed over Mordane, and he felt a vibration in his horn.

“Oh! So that's why. Soldier, that barrel.”

“No!”

Mordanes' heart leapt into his throat as a guard started to stomp over to him. He wanted to run, to struggle. His mind was in chaos.

Suddenly, his adult sensibility reasserted itself. His tearing eyes dulled.

His mother stood definitely in front of the barrel as the guards moved closer. The implied threat made him furious but that settled into a dull lump in his stomach. The certainty of someone who knew they could not run.

Slowly he walked out of the barrel. Sunnyfields was being held down.

“Oh, there you are.” The sickly stallion's dismissive tone had disappeared, his eyes lighting up. “Little unicorn, what's your name? You're a good colt for coming out.”

“Can you please let up my mother?”

The stallion frowned slightly, looking down at the mare.

“This… earth pony, are you sure she is your mother?” He turned stern, “ I won’t be having any lies now.”

Mordane's blood ran a bit cold. He could tell the stallion was trying to intimidate him. Trying to get him to say something. He remembered what his mother had spoken about Unicorns begging to be taken to Celestia's school. Was that the justification?

“Yes. We share the same eyes.”

“Oh, that doesn’t mean–”

“She is my mom. Stone is my dad.” Mordane stated bluntly. The stallion looked a little more irritated but nodded to the guards.

Sunnfields rushed over to Mordane wrapping her hooves around him. Trembling, she glared at the tax pony.

“Young mare. I realize that things can be difficult raising a unicorn colt in an earth pony village like this. That could entitle you to tax relief. After all, if he has not been receiving magical education–”

“He has,” she snapped.

“It is a crime to lie to a Royal representative. Who has he been learning from?”

“I know magic,” Mordane cut in.

The stallion stopped again, frowning.

“You do?”

“Yes.” Mordane reached out for energy but was surprised to find that he couldn't feel any around him. Like it had all been scooped up already.

“Well, why don’t you show me?” the stallion asked, smiling kindly.

Mordane nearly spat at him. How was he to do anything without Energy? A possibility he hadn’t considered before. He suddenly realized this stallion had taken over all the energy in the environment.

“You can do it, son,” his mother whispered. “Be strong.”

Mordane thought back to his lesson. All the energy was taken, so what?

Then it struck him.

The energy around them was gone, but perhaps he could fuel the spell with only his internal power.

Mordane took a deep breath, pushing hard. He filled his horn with his internal reservoir. There was little room for inefficiency, but he didn’t think about that. His horn glowed, and a small stone rose with a wobble into the air.

“I see.”

“Sir. we found a purse.”

The second guard came out holding up the family coin purse. A purse Mordane noted was substantially emptier than when he saw it earlier.

“Okay. That should be enough. Let's go to the next house.” The unicorn stallion glared at Mordane. “You’ll regret not coming with me, colt. Your magic will be limited here.”

The stallions and guards marched down the street, leaving Mordane alone with his mother gripping him tightly.

A year passed and Mordane read his book in between pushing clouds over fields. Human schooling proved very useful to him. The more one understood about the physics of what was happening, the easier it became to cast a spell. He had taken both physics and calculus in high school, and didn't do too badly in either class, as well. He would have even gone on to college if he had not chosen a different path. In the years since he had grown pretty rusty, but it seemed that even knowing the basics of how different forces interacted helped immensely. As he learned, he discovered more differences in pony understanding. They did not know Einstein's energy equation, nor did they seem to know calculus. Their science was surprisingly empty. Soon he realized that magic was to blame. They could not know what was fundamental, and what a spell was. In fact, they thought of everything as magic, even gravity and force.

Soon he could levitate multiple objects, light candles, and make water cold. However, the book did not go beyond such topics. Soon he had learned all it could teach him. Most of the book was about physics, or as it called them, "The Fundamental Rules.”

Mordane was hidden in a ravine on the other side of the valley. He did not want to disappoint his father, but he wanted to learn more. This world was unknown to him. He may need to defend himself and there were no weapons on the farm.

He focused and brought out the well of power.

"Ok, let's review. In order to light a candle or brushfire one must take heat from somewhere and pour it into something that can burn. Will something you want to burn. What if I was attacked? How could I fight with this? Pouring heat is too slow, I need something like a stream of fire. If I just use my innate power I will lose all of it in seconds. That is why you draw heat from something else. Well, I know heat is just motion on a smaller scale, so what if I take the energy from some kind of motion and make it into heat? No, no. then it would just burn in one spot, I need it to shoot out. Ok, I’ll make a cone of air just in front of my horn then pour heat into it. No that would cost too much power. I guess I could just use it for small explosions."

He drew a tiny bit of the motion from the surrounding wind, and put it into an even smaller bit of air.

An explosion rocketed through the valley.

Mordane had luckily gotten behind a large stone. He started laughing. It was good that the ravine was isolated. The townsponies would not hear. He went back to continue his studies.

The family was busy cleaning the house from earlier as Mordane sat on a mat rereading his magical book. His eyes practically tried to bore a hole through it.

“There is nothing more to learn from this…”

“I won’t ever be at someponies mercy again. This world is no different. No worse. I must become strong to survive'' He looked up, eyes hard as steel. “I won’t lose someone again.”

“Shh, little one.” His mother's hooves slipped around him. “What's wrong?”

“I’m tired of just practicing mana control and levitation. Teach me something else.”

“Something else?” she asked, rocking slightly. “Hmm, it's hard for me. I can’t cast magic myself. But I know a lot about illusions. It's a little advanced. You don’t have to learn if you don’t want to. If it's not your talent–”

“Mom, I want to learn magic. All the magic.”

Sunnyfields held him for a moment, worrying about washing over her like a sickly mire.

“Well, that is probably for the best. You’re a bit young, but you're an alicorn. So it should be okay. I’ll teach you what I know. The first lesson is that with illusions, you must know the truth of the world better than anypony. Do not forget that it is only a dream–”

Mordane listened intently. Burning the memory into his mind of what she said as he let his mind begin to work.

Mordane carefully poured the water over the plants before pressing down with his hooves around the plant to cover the rabbit droppings he had just placed there.

Around him, the garden looked full and in bloom. Its petals are coming in nicely this mid-spring.

This year his mother had left the garden to him alone. A break away from his obsessive magic practice.

He took a moment to breathe in the deep chilly evening air. Stone packing away his tools into the shed.

“Garden looks well,” he said while looking it over.

“Yeah. I’ve enjoyed tending it.”

“–a little too well,” Stone mumbled.

“What?”

“You’ve been using your hooves?

Mordane sat down his supplies, frowning.

“Yes.”

“Why not your horn?” he asked.

“Uh, I don’t know. Just didn’t seem right.”

Stone nodded, closing the shed.

“Let me show you something.” Trotting to the garden, he sat down among the seedlings. Reaching out, he passed his hooves over them. “Yep, you feel this?”

Mordane frowned, passing his hoof over the plant as well.

“Not really.”

“Hmmm.” He stopped on an empty spot. “This one didn’t grow.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what I did wrong,” Mordane said with a shrug.

“Nothing, most likely.” He grabbed Mordanes' hooves and placed them over the dirt. Glancing around before turning back and leaning down. “Focus on this feeling. I don’t know about your magic, but Earth ponies do theirs through their hooves.“

Mordane nodded slowly before closing his eyes and reaching inside.

“Nah, that's not right. It's more like–” Mordane felt as his hoof grip extended through his. But it was different from his mother, more like warm honey than heat.

He felt it seep into the ground. Then the ground sent something back, stronger than before.

“There.” Stone lifted away his hoof, revealing a tiny sprout. “You give to the ground, and it gives back. That's the magic of us Earth Ponies.”

“Wow,” he whispered.

“You’ve been getting stronger lately. I’ve noticed.” Stone started trotting to the house. “You’ve been putting yourself in the dirt, and getting it back.”

He stopped, turning back to Mordane with a stern look on his face.

“The whole town knows you as a Unicorn. Some of the other stallions asked how you grew this garden so well. I told em I was working on it as well as your mum’.” He stared sternly into Mordanes' eyes.

“I–, I didn’t realize,” Mordane stuttered.

“You need to be careful. You’ve been wanting flying lessons with your brother, right?”

“...” Mordane looked down to the ground. His ears drooped.

“You aren’t allowed to use your hooves for growing things from now on. As for lessons, they will need to wait for one more year until I know you can protect your secret.”

“Yes, dad.”

Stone started to turn away before Mordane spoke up again.

“But dad, can I go exploring away from home?”

Stone turned back, raising an eyebrow.

“I will keep the secret, I promise.”

Stone scratched his chin, his stern gaze softening.

“We’ll see. Now come on, your mom has made carrot pie tonight, and I’m starving.” He smiled, rubbing Mordane on the head, getting a grin from the small colt before turning and heading back to the house.

Mordane waited a moment. The smile slowly fell from his face. He turned to look at the garden before shifting his wings under his coat.

The feelings and thoughts of the adult reasserting themselves.

“How did I not realize?” he asked flatly under his breath. “I need to focus more on magic. No matter what my mother says.”

Turning, he galloped after his father. Letting the moment of heightened awareness fall back behind the colt. Only to find the door no longer fully closed.

Spring turned to fall. The soft, chilly summer winds turned into the biting cold of winter.

Flashwing fought hard to climb. The generally cold air gave him little updrafts. Instead, he was forced to push himself up the whole way.

He had already checked south among the fields and was instead heading north. Once he closed in on the mountains, he went west, seeing a small clearing next to a stream with a black blob sitting near it.

He turned down diving before coming to a landing.

“At least you went far enough this time…”

“Ah, yes. I’ll leave shortly, brother.”

Trotting closer, he came to a stop staring at the fish still gaping on the ground in front of him. Mordane's horn was glowing along with the creature's open chest.

“What are you doing?” Flashwing asked, “That… why haven’t you killed it already?”

Mordane turned and blinked, looking at him. In front of the young colt lay a fish, its chest split open and organs exposed, heart still beating.

“It is dead,” Mordane snorted. “Come take a look.”

Flashwing slowly shook his head but stepped closer anyway.

Pegasi would occasionally eat fish, but they didn’t cut them open. Instead, they would pick them up and fly high, allowing them to drop onto the rocks. The minerals and oils from the flesh were essential to wax production in their saliva.

Once they got down, there wasn’t much left but paste, which was preferable to the ponies.

This, though, Mordane had obviously used a knife and telekinetic grip to slit the fish clean in half from head to tail.

“The fish has been dead for about ten seconds. I could actually feel the life leaving it, surprisingly, as a large part of its magic dissipated within a few moments.”

Mordane looked at him, concern showing up in his eyes. He reached over and touched Flashwings wing. Giving a reassuring smile.

“Why are you doing this?” Flashwing asked tersely.

“To understand why I can’t kill with magic. I tried to crush this fish, rip it apart, or anything with my telekinesis. However, it doesn’t seem to hold on. I can’t get the magic to transfer heat directly either.” He pointed at the fish, his eyes lighting up. “However, the knife I held could still cut, so I could quickly split the creature in half.”

Flashwing looked at the fish and the still-beating heart. Indeed, Mordane had succeeded in only removing the outer layer of skin.

“Is that its stomach?”

“Yes, this here is the heart, that is the brain, then there is the bladder,” Mordane said, pointing with his knife before frowning. “Hmm, I wonder.”

Mordane dropped the knife before igniting another spell. Much to Flashwing's surprise, he heard Mordane grunt.

The fish’s heart collapsed as if put under a press. A few bones cracked, and the blood leaked out everywhere.

“Well. That confirms that. This thing’s still harder to manipulate than a rock, but it is far easier than when it was alive and getting easier all the time.”

Mordane frowned.

“Does this mean it had a soul?” Stumbling back, Flashwing turned and threw up into the creek. His stomach emptied as he thought of that idea.

“Mordane.”

“Yes?” Mordane asked, frowning as he looked back at Flashwing.

“Do you, do you not think this is wrong?”

“No, do you?”

“Yes! Mordane, to eat is one thing, but that thing was in pain. And you're doing it for a spell?” He narrowed his eyes “are you thinking of becoming a dark wizard, because if so…”

“What!? No! I just said–” His mouth gaping, “–I just, wanted to know.”

He looked Mordane down, eyes watering.

“I’m sorry,” Mordane whispered. “I… I didn’t think. I just,” Mordane bit his lip. His eyes were watering too.

“I'm sorry.” Mordane ran up to his brother, falling into his hooves

“What is the answer to this one?” Berry mumbled. Holding her head in her hoof. She and Mordane were sitting down at the table.

“Break it down.” Mordane pointed with a pencil held by his horn.

She stared at the slate for a few minutes. Chewing her bottom lip.

“So twenty-three times fifteen,” Mordane said. “What do you break it down into?”

“Uhh. Five and ten?” Berry mumbled.

“Correct. Twenty-three times ten is?”

“Uhh, you said to move the decimal, so, two hundred and thirty?”

“Yes. Now Five times twenty-three.”

She wrote it and mumbled.

“Twenty times five, one hundred?”

“Yes.” Mordane smiled

“And five and three is fifteen.” She scrunched her nose.

“So,” Mordane said, writing down the three numbers, “Two hundred thirty plus one hundred plus fifteen.”

“Three hundred and forty-five?” she replied.

Mordane nodded; a cloth floated up, erasing the slate.

“Okay, now do this one.”

Stone and Sunnyfields stole glances into the window, unable to get enough of the odd sight.

“This is the fourth letter. That horn head is persistent. I'll give him that.” Stone growled. His eyes glared at the letter as if, by doing so, he could burn the sender.

“He is a bigot, dear, but at least he thinks he has Mordane's interest in mind.”

“Mordane would run circles around him in a matter of weeks, and she would either lie about him or have him thrown out as soon as the idiot realized he was a threat.”

Sunny chuckled, looking over to see as Berry fled into the fields, leaving Mordane who shrugged and floated up a thick history book.

“He really spends all his time reading. I wish we could provide him all the books he could want.”

“He’s smart,” grunted Stone

“She’s four years his senior.” Stone slapped some more mortar on the wall, patching a hole. “Smart doesn’t cover it.”

“And he is an alicorn.” Stunnyfield lifted up her bag of picked and sorted flowers. “Should we be that surprised?”

“Still, he is only eight. Soon I'll be taking Flashwing to Manehattan for his Education certification..”

He stopped frowning and looked at Mordane.

“Do you think Mordane could pass that test?”

Sunnyfield frowned.

“His math and magical law studies are excellent. His history, though, needs some work. However,” her eyes gleamed a little “If he goes ahead, they will finally be off our backs.”

Stone sighed.

They had received a dozen inquiring letters from the Manehattan school board concerning his wife’s ‘neglect’ of her foals. A view he found slightly amusing as his wife had insisted on all the children's education. Still, it had not ever come up until the Royal tax collector had seen Mordane as a ‘unicorn.’

“Him being certified would put a stop to that, wouldn’t it. Very well. When winter breaks, I’ll take both him and Flashwing. As for Merry and Berry–”

The two parents flinched as Berry’s scream of frustration reached them.

“I’m going to say they are not yet ready.”

“You must hold the image firmly in your mind. The sharper the image, the more precise the spell's structure will form.”

Mordane nodded before he closed his eyes and pulled in on the ambient magic, focusing on the small iron plate hanging on the strap around his neck.

The symbols he had carefully carved over two months began to glow. The plate warmed to the touch.

“Remember, the symbols are the slate. Your mental image is charcoal. Focus.”

Mordane frowned but pushed on. A shimmer covered his wings in a few moments, causing them to fade.

“Good job! It's working well.”

Mordane anchored the spell into the pendant. He lifted his hoof toward the fireplace.

His horn began to blaze as he drew in the heat energy from the fire pit, causing it to suddenly dim.

“Your horn is too bright. You are holding fire well.”

Mordane mentally retranslated that to ‘not converting the energy efficiently.

She touched his forehead with her hoof, looking away from the now blinding light of his horn.

“You're a little warm. Focus, Mordane.”

Mordane gritted his teeth before stopping and taking a moment to breathe.

“There is a lot to remember. I guess I’ll need to split my focus.” It was something he could have done with little effort as a human, but it had been over a decade.

Mordane blinked, and suddenly he was two. One focusing on maintaining the spell structure, the other on directing the energy.

He drew out the extra energy that had spilled over into his body, cooling down. Then slowed and dimmed his horn.

“Good, now fill its cup.”

Mordane poured the energy in his horn into the metal, keeping focus to ensure it was in the stable mana matrix. No conversion to heat or other energy forms should occur in a perfect cast. A state he was far, far from doing.

The metal warmed his chest slightly, but only slightly.

“Good. Now, before leaving every morning, you should fill the reservoir.”

“It's very leaky,” Mordane mumbled, looking at the metal.

“Good magical channeling gems are expensive. This metal will have to do,” his mother replied, turning away to start on another task. “You're coming to the end of what I know.”

Mordanes' head jerked.

“What!? But we only just started. You just–”

“It's true, son. I’m sorry.”

Mordane stopped, seeing his mother's shoulders trembling slightly. He trotted over, hugging her from behind.

“No, thank you. It's a good start.”

Mordane glanced down at his mother's mark. A hoof swinging with a field of stars.

“Well, we will just have to move on to the next thing then,” she said suddenly, pulling away from him.

Mordane stepped back, his eyes opening wide as his mother pulled four books out from a cabinet.

“Mom?” Mordane's voice croaked. “Where did you?”

“Your dad ordered them through the mail. It cost a lot, but there was little choice.” She slapped down the books “History, Grammar, and Horn Writing. These are your weakest subjects, and you're not going to pass the graduation test in the summer without them.”

“Uh-wha?”

“I am not having you dragged off to Canterlot by that dunderhead just to be chopped up by that tyrant Celestia! Luna, preserve us.” She huffed before turning to glare at him. “Well?”

Mordane swallowed; reading the title, he shivered. ‘Hornwriting perfection, a beginners guide.’

“Well, I don’t know why unicorns need a separate writing system, but I’ll learn it. I promise.” He paused. “What do you mean dragged off to Canterlot?”

Mordane turned slowly, looking back over his shoulders, marveling at how the cloak seemed to cling to him. The minor inlay enchantments hummed warmly against him.

“Looks like you empowered them correctly.” His mother beamed.

“Thank you for working through it with me,” Mordane replied softly. He reached over to hug her, an opportunity she took to ruffle his wings.

“Don't forget to not let anypony touch your back. Okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.” Mordane nuzzled her softly.

“And if you see Celestia, run. Okay?”

“I will, mom.”

Giving one more big hug, mordane turned and trotted out of the house, outside his brother and father, waiting for him and on his first journey from home.

A city and a mothers love

Mordane sat in the back of the cart as it trundled down the muddy path his father insisted was a road. It meandered with the land clearly formed from ponies who simply followed the easiest path to get where they were going.

The cart was packed full of the extra grain, woven fabrics, and other assorted items from the village. Trips after all were a young ponies game, one his father was glad to cater to.

Mordane looked at the four books wrapped up beside him, considering once again if to reread them to alleviate his boredom. However, he had already practically memorized them line by line, plus he would have to unpack them.

He sighed, still bothered by what he had seen in the big book called Equestria, A Comprehensive History.

What little facts it had were context. It did list a long line of succession states as contributors to the ‘Equestrian Union’. Germanaia, Prance, names which seemed similar to nations of Earth. Confused, he had scoured the book to see if there was any connection back to humanity, but none popped up.

In the end he could only conclude that it seemed to just be chance. Prance had actually been named after a single pony who founded the country and formalized its language. Named because of the way he tended to trot. Germania was so named due to the legend of its founders interbreeding with diamond dogs in the distant past and the madness that was involved.

It was strange, but filed under random chance after what digging he could do.

What had not first been apparent though became clear as he continued through the book. Namely, as he understood it this couldn’t be called a history book.

It was a collection of single stories sparsely spread throughout the time period. Stand alone stories which were meant to convey something about the time period it took place in.

At first he had thought that this book was for foals but further questions led him to understand that this was what history was to Equestrians. The book contained barely three hundred pages and was considered comprehensive for the test.

The gap was so wide his confusion had been hard for his parents to understand. Only making a connection when his mother told him ‘those stories are the time’. A common phrase apparently.

Records existed. There were facts and other such things going back but there was no systematic preservation of events past a pony's lifetime. They recorded ‘quintessential’ stories from the age. Stories not written down at the time but instead what was remembered about the time a generation or so after. A ‘historian’ wasn’t a researcher but instead a pony that literally made history, choosing which tales were worth preserving.

Very little from before six hundred years ago mattered enough to tell everypony, so it effectively didn’t exist in the ordinary pony's mind. A simple question, ‘How old is Equestria?’ couldn’t be answered.

The concept had rocked his world and been the hardest to deal with. Ultimately, he resorted to memorizing the stories in order, breaking down the ‘lesson’ that could be gleaned from them.

As far as he could tell, that is how they saw the past: a series of lessons starting with the oldest—the story of the first Heartwarming and the Fire of Friendship.

It reeked of manipulation to him. Somepony had either revised the idea of history, unnaturally unmooring ponykind from the past. Or pony society developed it for some reason he didn’t yet see.

He took another note, his horn moving the spoon smoothly. The lessons there had been relatively easy, with his mother eventually giving a shrug and saying it was passable. It turned out the unicorns thought that regular writing was too plain and so made extra curly magically themed ones instead that he hated nearly as much as its general grammar. Still, he had learned it. At least, he hoped so.

He sighed.

“We really do need to get you some new books," his father said, looking back at him. Get a cup of water ready; your brother is coming back.”

Mordane nodded, and as his brother came in for a landing he presented him with the cup.

“There is a fork in the road ahead. The one on the left goes to a village. Right one goes down a weird road,” Flashwing said before drinking.

“That's right,” Stone grumbled. “I thought it was that way. Last year I ended up in the town. Ah well. That ‘strange road’ is the royal road. We should be close to Manehatten now.”

True to his father's word, they soon came to a ‘strange’ road.

Mordane recognized it as an actual road. It had a raised mound of dirt with two ditches, wide enough for two carts to pass each other. Where the paths crossed, there was also a stacked trough with flat stones slotted across. It struck him as Romanesque in design, though narrower.

A stone pillar sat at the corner of the crossroads, each direction marked on it. Below that, he could see a symbol of a sun carved into it with a silhouette of an alicorn in its center, wings outstretched.

“Yeah,” he thought “that looks like the symbol of a tyrant”

“That's her mark,” Stone said, seeing what he was looking at, “marks the road as hers.”

“And it means she raises the sun?” Mordane said sarcastically.

“Yes,” Stone gave him a withering look, “And that is what you will say you believe. Otherwise, ponies will think you are crazy.”

“Okay, okay.” Mordane waved him off. As they turned onto the road, Mordane leaned back in the cart and looked at the clouds slowly drifting off.

“Mordane.”

Mordane grunted, shifted and rolled against the grain bag which felt like a soft pillow.

“Get up, Mordane. You don’t want to miss this.”

Mordane groaned but sat up, rubbing the sand from his eyes.

“Are we close?” Mordane asked calmly.

“Yes. I see you're feeling better now?” Flashwing asked, grinning.

“Yeah,” Mordane mumbled. Stretching, he felt his sore shoulders pop before relaxing.

“Come oooon, it's something to see.”

Mordane grinned feeling more awake, he jumped back onto the seat behind his dad and beside Flashwing.

“What’s there to see? It's just a city, right?”

“Just a city?” Flashwing chuckled teasingly. “You’re going to love it! This place is like nothing you’ve ever seen! Just wait until you see the skyscrapers!”

“I’m sorry?” Mordane blinked twice before furrowing his brow.

“You’ll see. We are about to crest the hill.”

“But I don’t understand how ponies could make a–” Mordane’s eyes caught something as it crested the hill which drew his entire attention.

It was straight out of a postcard from New York City, giant towering buildings and all. Mordane swept his gaze across the sprawling metropolis. A pressure rising in his mind as he began to feel dizzy. On a small island, he saw some pony standing in a parody of the Statue of Liberty. An equally large bridge spanning a small strait led to the island.

Everything in his mind ground to a halt. “Am I insane”

Flashwing fell on his back, laughing as Mordane stared slack-jawed at the city.

Mordane coughed, adjusting in the tead to cover his shock. Using the need to not concern his brother and father with a panic attack. Even so it was not enough to stop the panic creeping up his spine.

He wanted to keep staring, to scream, grab his head but something deep inside of him wouldn’t allow it. A steel he hadn’t needed since coming to this world, and in his panic he grasped it. He snapped his eyes shut and focused to recenter himself. A spilling of thoughts tumbled through him out of control as he tried to grab something to hold onto.

“There is a line between madness and reason. Think of what you have seen… your brother, mother, father, and sisters.” He breathed in deep, the words spilled through his mind like a mantra. “They are real. You are not smart enough to dream them up. This fact, this city means nothing. A torch can have many meanings, you shouldn’t make assumptions. With magic, who knows what can be built. A limited space practically forces a move skyward… The name Manhatten has something to do with man houses, right? Well, it certainly doesn’t mean hair. Hair houses? No, that translation isn’t exact. It’s ‘Mane’ as in hair and the later part–”

Mordane opened his eyes, focusing on the large building with a pony head on it, noting that there really was no equivalent in his own world. Looking at the giant pony statue with the torch, he decided he was unsure what it meant.

“What do you think, Mordane? Out of this world huh?”

“It is,” Mordane said flatly. “I can’t wait to learn more about it.”

“One must accept the evidence of their eyes” he thought, “Maybe pony society is more advanced than I thought?”

They approached a large bridge but something caught Mordanes' attention. As the royal road met the bridge there was a stark difference in the construction. While the royal road was of roman styled packed dirt, Manehatten’s was a deep black compacted stone and gravel bound together in a pseudo concrete mix.

He knew enough though to class this as a primitive concrete. Its texture was not smooth, nor was the stone uniform. It was in very large quantities, though. Even so, his eyes flicked to the suspension bridge.

At first, he thought it was steel, but upon closer inspection, the only steel was the suspension cables, while the towers were stone tightly fitted and painted red. He wasn't surprised to see wood supports under his hooves and the thin concrete of the road.

“More metal than I’ve ever seen.” Stone sighed, “Used for a bridge of all things.”

“It's very impressive, though,” Mordane commented, now looking at the towers.

“Wasteful is what it is.”

The next thing he realized was that there was a lot less concrete in the construction of most buildings. They had used brick and mortar for the vast majority of the buildings in the city he could see. The few skyscrapers topped out at around thirty stories.

As he slowly filled in what had been assumptions about how the city functioned, Mordane started feeling like he was together, forming a picture that, while strangely capable, was still limited.

The population density was surprisingly low for a city. He noted that many of the buildings were apartments, with shops and small businesses scattered about on the first through third floors.

The city was off, far too much brick and not enough space for trusses. A building under construction gave him a clue as he saw a thin metal rod sticking into the air with runes carved down its length. He saw clear water coming out of a fountain clean enough for ponies to drink from it. Pegusi flew overhead their flight patterns following the road below.

What struck out though was what he didn’t see. There were no watertowers atop buildings. This meant all the water had to be moved magically as no clear aqueduct was coming to the city. The lamps were glowing slightly even in the daylight which he assumed meant they were magically driven. He could feel the magic in the air and a thrum through his hooves.

“Hey dad, what's that feeling in my hooves?” Mordane asked.

“Too many ponies in the same place. It’s the city's harmony,” Stone muttered. “It's an earth pony thing. Don’t mention it to anypony.”

Mordane nodded, continuing to stare in fascination at everything in the city.

They moved through the center of town toward the far end of the island where townhouses and skyscrapers gave way to manors and gardens.

By the end, Mordane had claimed down. Seeing the city for what it was, not a construct of technology but instead of magic, layered over each other for perhaps hundreds of years. The manors though brought him a little smirk. Out here the thrum of the city was gone and he realized building a skyscraper here would be impossible.

Stone came to a stop in front of one of these manors. A white picket fence surrounded the property, which Mordane wouldn’t have exactly called giant, though he would have to admit it certainly was larger than most houses in the city.

“There it is,” he said flatly. “We will have to enter the side door.”

The three of them walked down the side road the house was pressed against until they came to a door with a small metal sign hanging over it.

Lord Railline Residencial offices

“Really,” Mordane groaned. “A side office?”

“That's right,” Stone sighed. “After this, I’ll drop you off at the exam location. Watch the cart.”

Mordane watched as his father walked through the door, inside was a small room with a secretary mare behind the counter.

“Why does the lord of our territory live here?” Mordane asked, scrunching his nose.

“Because living here is better.” Flashwing shrugged.

“I guess Celestia really doesn’t care.” Mordane motioned the way they came, and Flashwing nodded. Turning, Mordane faced the opposite direction and kept a lookout.

The part of the city near the school district was far from quiet. Mordane could hear ponies chanting as they passed the mayor's office.

“Corruption!”

“Bayleaf for mayor! Bayleaf for mayor!”

“Free Manehattan!”

Mordane’s father had left the cart at the market for the local ponies to unload, the three of them weaving through the crowd.

“They seem… peaceful,” Mordane said, looking around at the ponies. “Can we just step onto the street?”

“Hmm? No, that's for carts in the city,” Stone said. “Just step around the ponies.”

The school building was across the street.

Being the end of October, colts and fillies were few and far between in the school.

Going to the front office, Stone gestured to the mare sitting at the front desk.

“Marigold?” Stone asked. “I spoke to you last year…”

“Yes! Stone Stronghoof. Is this Flashwing?”

“Yep!” Flash stood up tall, grinning at the mare.

“Gooood,” she practically coed. “The exam is comprehensive. Are you ready, little stallion?”

“Of course! We are both ready!”

Marigold’s grin faded as she looked down at the small pony.

“And how old are you?” she asked in a pained voice.

“Twelve,” Mordane lied.

“You are a little small for twelve. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I just have a small build,” Mordane replied.

Turning to Stone she clipped her hooves together and gave him a questioning look.

“This is Mordane, the one I sent you a letter about? He is ready to take the test.”

The mare looked him over, scrunching her nose, she looked back at Stone who seemed a little nervous.

“My understanding was that he was just one or two years early…”

“I’m quite serious. He is ready.”

The mare pressed her lips together before breaking out into a big smile.

“Okay! The two of you colts need to come with me, you will need to wait here, Mr. Stone.”

Stone frowned, his brow creasing as he widened his stance slightly.

“And why would that be?”

“Only test takers are allowed in the back,” she replied quickly. “You can wait here, there are some forms you’ll need to fill out.”

Stone stared down the mare for a few moments before sighing and relaxing. Giving a little bump to both colts.

“Very well. Go with her.”

“Don’t worry, I got this dad!” Perked Flashwing before following after the mare.

Mordane looked at his father for a moment. Giving a small nod. He turned, his eyes sharp as he kept an eye out for something that would put his father on edge.

Mordane gulped water from the fountain. Its water wetting his dry throat and feverish head.

“That test was ridiculous,” Mordane hissed, staring at his hooves. “How did Flashwing finish before me?”

He trotted back to the waiting room. His father was waiting for him.

“How did it go?”

“I’m certain I passed. That test was ridiculous, though. What did Flashwing say?”

Stone frowned.

“He said it was easy. Your advice helped him.”

Mordane matched his father's steely look.

“I’d guess that means my test was harder,” Mordane said simply. “Did his test come back?”

“Passed. I’m still waiting for you.”

“I just finished ten minutes ago.” Mordane took a breath before jumping up onto the chair beside him. “Where is Flashwing?”

“Let him go to something called an ‘arcade.’”

“Ah.” Mordane leaned back, his eyes hardening. “It's got to be him.”

“Who?” Stone whispered while looking intently at the secretary mare.

“Who has connections with the government and would have an interest in me failing this test?”

Stone thought for a few moments before snorting in anger. “Bucking bastard.”

Mordane chuckled, grinning at his dad, who cracked a smile in return.

“Well, insults I made aside. I’m sure–”

A loud bang ripped out as the crooked tax pony Mordane and his dad knew charged in, followed by the examiner Mordane had taken the test with earlier, who had introduced herself as Studious Heart.

Stone stood, a few bones cracking as he glared at the stallion.

“Mr. Stone,” the stallion said coldly. “It is a pleasure to speak to you again.”

“I’m happy to say it's not the same, Lord Goodwick,” Stone grunted. “What do you want?”

Goodwick's wide smile dropped immediately into a smirk. “Would you mind if I spoke with Mordane? Is this him here?”

“I think I would.” Stone raised his hoof. “Mordane is still unhappy about your visit to your village as Her Majesty’s tax pony.”

Goodwick shook his head.

“I believe I have explained my condolences for the situation and have filed an anonymous complaint at the capital. You may want to cooperate with me, Mr. Stronghoof. Your son's future is at stake here.”

“That would be mine and my wife’s concern,” Stone snapped.

Goodwick's smile brought bile to his throat.

“Unfortunately, your son has not performed as expected for somepony of his age. It would seem that you have been falling short on his education.”

“No, I didn’t,” Mordane said flatly, causing both ponies to jerk to look at him.

“Confidence is a good trait,” the tax pony said, “but skill needs to back it up. You really must be misleading him, Mr Stronghoof. I’ll be filing a form with the local constabulary. I’m certain they will gladly–”

“Uh, Lord Goodwick?” Studious Heart spoke up. “That is what I was trying to tell you.”

He turned, looking down at the mare with a frown.

“Mordane’s score was uhhh, yes, out of the expected range for his age group… but not negatively.“ She looked at him curiously. “He took the graduation test, in fact.”

“What are you saying?” Goodwick replied, his hooves closing together and ears folding back.

“I guess I’m saying…” She stepped forward, holding out a thick-papered document to Mordane. “Congratulations, Mordane… you have graduated school.”

Stone broke out into a grin as Goodwick gawked like a fish. His eyes bugged out.

“B-but the magic section–”

“It was his worst score but… he passed.”

“By what standard!” Goodwick roared “How can he have passed if magic was the worst! He is a unicorn!”

“Because,” she said firmly. “Manehattan standards are not set by the Royal Court, Lord Goodwick.”

Goodwick stepped toward the mare glaring at her, “That's an outrage, do you know who donates the most to your school, you–”

“Mr. Goodwick,” Mordane’s tone cut through the air with a small echo down the hallway. He stared down the stallion before turning to Stone, “Dad, would you mind going on? I would like to have a few words with the royal tax pony.”

Stone frowned and seemed ready to say no before seeing the look in Mordane’s eyes. An unspoken conversation passed between them before Stone nodded.

“I’ll see you shortly, Mordane. Meet at the shop from this morning. I’m going to go find your brother.” He turned and trotted out, leaving the very surprised two ponies behind.

The confused stallion looked at Mordane before turning to the mare.

“Mordane will be coming with me. You will inform his father–”

“No. I will not,” Mordane once again spoke up. Glaring at the stallion.

Goodwick turned to look at Mordane, he looked at him with pity.

“Mordane, I’m sure your parents love you, but you must understand–”

“I understand perfectly. You wish to take me with you. You believe this is for my own good. You believe my parents have deprived me of information they could not provide.”

“It is not that they are not trying,” Goodwick replied, looking down at him sympathetically. “It is only through proper education can you reach your potential. Our country needs every unicorn.”

Studious Heart’s lips began to pull slightly down as her brow furrowed at the comment.

“Why would I care about the country?” Mordane replied flatly. Both adults jerked to face Mordane. Goodwicks mouth opened slightly.

“Mordane, the country is what protects all ponies. Now I understand this situation–”

“Due to your meddling,'' Mordane cut him off before repeating, “This situation is entirely due to your meddling. You are the one who made my test more difficult. What? Did you think I wouldn’t ask my brother about his test?”

Studious Heart had been glowering before, but now she looked absolutely furious. Slowly, she stepped around to stand between Mordane and the stallion.

“I had my suspicions… but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now, Mr. Goodwick,” she sneered.

“Mordane,” Goodwick carefully answered Mordane while ignoring her. “I can see now that my approach has pushed you away. Perhaps I was overzealous in my duties. Callous in my application of the law with your family.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Mordane cut in, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but please don’t let my mistakes rob you of your future. I can see now that you are a smart colt. You have a great potential for magic with your internal well so large.” He stood up giving a firm nod. “If you come with me today I can help your family. You won’t need to separate from them. He stepped closer. “I can give your father a job in Canterlot that will earn enough to do well for an earth pony.”

Mordane’s eyes opened wider slightly as Mr. Goodwick waited expectantly.

“You can even continue to live with them, and I will personally sponsor your entry into the school for gifted unicorns. I know what I did was forceful, but I truly had your best interest at heart.” He nods sagely. “Kindness is a virtue of Harmony, and I now see what my callousness has brought. I’ve pushed you away. Forgive me, Mordane. I’m truly sorry. The nation needs ponies like you.”

Mordane stared silently at the stallion for a few seconds before answering.

“I think there is something you misunderstand, Goodwick. I am not interested in working for the government.”

“It's not just the government. We serve the Princess, I was not speaking in jest about the school!” Goodwick blurted. “You could meet Celestia!”

Mordane’s heart seized. Under his cloak, his wings shivered ever so slightly, and before he knew it, a snarl escaped his lips.

“Celestia can sit on my horn and spin!”

Studious Heart did a little jump, turning to look back and gawking at him, matching Goodwick, who also had his ears splayed back.

“You- YOU–” He stopped, pulling himself up and sending a scathing glare at the audacious colt. “You’re a lost cause.”

He turned, stomping out of the room.

Mordane glared at the mare only to blink in surprise. She was grinning at him.

“I’ve never heard a non-Manehatinite say anything close to that about the Princess.”

“Well… I just wanted him to leave me and my family alone,” Mordane said sheepishly, looking down.

“Well, come to my office. Let's get your diploma signed.” She gestured to Mordane to follow her, which he did after a moment of consideration. They made their way to a corner office, the mare gesturing to Mordane to sit in the chair across from her desk.

“Coffee?” she asked before clipping her hoof against the table. “Oh yes, that's right. I’m used to having parents here. Tea instead?”

“Coffee would be fine,” Mordane replied. “Black if you don’t mind.”

The mare snorted but complied, taking a pitcher of water from the cupboard and a fancy-looking cup.

Setting it down carefully, she placed a gem on the pitcher, which began to hum. With a patient pour, she filled the cup.

Mordane raised an eyebrow when accepting it in his magic, floating the cup to the desk in front of him.

“It's a runic object, powered much like the trains,” she explained, making Mordane frown.

“I only know a few runes my mother taught me…”

“But more than most ponies ever learn,” she beamed. “Runes are expensive things; only unicorns can make them effectively.” She waved her hoof. “This little contraption might not be something spectacular in Canterlot, but here it cost me a week's pay in bits.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Studious,” Mordane said, floating up the steaming cup to take a sip. “Hmm, not bad.”

“They call that the scrubs drink, expensive inland. But you can get it on any corner in this city for a single bit.”

“Really, expensive even in Canterlot?”

“Very much. The only way to move it after all is on the trains, and there is a very large tax for any cargo,” she said flippantly. “Just another way Celestia is holding Equestria back.”

“I see,” Mordane replied, looking out the window. “This is an earth pony city, yes?”

“How could you tell?” she asked. “No, wait, you're a clever youth, was it the lack of doorknobs?”

“I’m not sure, a guess really,” he replied honestly. “So, my diploma?”

“In a minute,” she replied, waving her hoof dismissively. “My assistant should be producing it now, as an official Royal document it will of course have to be enruned by a unicorn.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Yes, what I do wonder though, is what you plan to do after your ‘graduation’.”

“Well, I’m still a little young to go on my own,” Mordane replied, looking at the mare wearily.

“No interest in furthering your education?”

“Well,” Mordane scowled, “I’m too poor to afford it.”

“Plus there are the restrictions, only the good little unicorns get access to Celestia's book club,” the mare said with a smile.

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Mordane sighed. “Just another barrier then…”

“Yes, most unicorns are part of Canterlot, and many of them went to normal schools but the pointiest horned ones go to Celestia's school, and almost all of those join the Rune Guild.”

Reaching into the folder she had handed Goodwick she took out his test, flipping to the third page she placed it down and turned it toward him.

Mordane frowned, looking up at the mare in confusion for a moment before eyes lighting up in recognition.

“My hornwriting was proficient? I believe I knew the questions concerning magical law and telekinesis.”

Studious Heart giggled. “That's right, he didn’t ask, but you scored well in your magical questions, just not as well in the arcanum. Though knowing that isn’t needed to pass the Manehatten exam… I thought he was going to complain that you cheated. Canterlot unicorns assume their plans will always work. Magic was indeed your worst score, but considering this is graduate level, it means you are one of those ‘gifted’ unicorns they cart off to Celestia’s school.” She looked him seriously in the eyes. “But I think that is something you would like to avoid?”

Mordane nodded, smiling. “Would you happen to know where I could buy a book of advanced runes?”

She smiled, giving a small nod. “I can do better. A stallion I know runs a little shop, I’ll give you a note. That should get your hoof in the door, at least. He will give you access to what you need. Study hard, and you may even get an apprenticeship.”

Leaving the city center, little was preventing Mordane from making his way to the shopping district. Already, the crowd protesting earlier had dispersed.

He spotted his brother and father waiting but took a detour down another street, finding the small store described by the schoolmare.

The shop was at the back of a barren alley. A small sign in the shape of a donkey hung to show ponies that there was anything at all..

Inside, there was a single desk across its length. Behind it hung shelves, tables, and carpets blocking the view. Trinkets, tiny jewels, and bottles could be seen everywhere.

A unicorn looked up to see him enter, smiling as he came to a stand.

“Hello, little one. Are you in the wrong place?”

Mordane didn’t answer at first, making sure to step up directly to the right side of the counter.

“I’m here for a tart.”

The stallion blinked. Frowning a moment before scratching his nose. “We don’t sell tarts.”

“I know,” Mordane replied flatly. “That was the passphrase given to me by Studious Heart.”

“...Aren’t you a little young for forbidden magic?”

Mordane smiled, chuckling a bit.

“Yes. I’m just looking for a book on enchanting, something like what you could get in Celestia’s school.”

The stallion laughed, leaning over the counter.

“Well, if that's what you're here for, I am not against it.”

Mordane sat down, his ears folding back.

“Uhh, do you even sell black magic?”

“Hmmm. Well, if I did, I wouldn’t sell to just anypony. There are some legitimate reasons to want that stuff. Mainly those making protection for it. Getting approval through… legal channels could be difficult. There is also a record kept of those who even request access. That can hurt a career.”

“Worse than death then,” Mordane replied flatly, looking over a displayed scroll.

The stallion plopped down a book in front of Mordane, who promptly flipped through it before hoofing it back over.

“Funny. I will need something more advanced than this.”

“Hmm. More advanced? So you mean Celestia’s gifted school, then.” He reached out, placing another book atop the first, “Does that thump your horn?”

Mordane checked the contents before slowly nodding. The book covered more than just the basics of enchanting; it also had sections for more permanent craft. Instead of being merely descriptive of the process, it discussed theory. Still, from what he could tell… it was all rather surface-level.

Nothing hazardous, though perhaps…

Mordane and the stallion looked into each other's eyes, trying to find something.

“I will take this one,” Mordane replied. “And in a few months I’ll send it back for the next level.”

“We sell books here, little un’. This ain’t a library.” The stallion snorted.

“I will return it in good condition, with more money. And yes. A few months is all I’ll need. Returning the book is a matter of confidence.”

The stallion arched an eyebrow before slowly smiling.

“So, not a one time purchase. But I don’t do catalog sales.”

“You will for me.”

“And why would I do that?” the stallion replied flatly.

“Because of where you will be sending it.” Mordane chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m from the northern territories.”

The stallion blinked before shaking his head and breaking out into a mirthful laugh. Shaking his head he stood up and went behind a bookshelf, returning a bit later with a thick book.

“There ain’t no way you're a guard coming from there. Look closely now. See how this book looks normal? Just math? But if you pull off the spine…”

Mordanes eyebrows rose as the stallion pulled away said spine, revealing a compartment slightly deeper than the book itself.

“I suppose necessity breeds invention,” Mordane mumbled.

“Just use this to send the book. I don’t have many of these so if you don’t send in this you’re cut off got it?”

Mordane nodded intently, he listened as the stallion instructed him on how to communicate and when. It took a lot of his strength to not become giddy with excitement.

The stallion took Mordanes bits, plus a deposit for the false back book. Mordane was certain it wouldn’t actually cover the cost but the stallion seemed to like him. One question still irritated him.

“You're quick to make a deal without sharing a name.”

“And you haven’t shared yours!” The stallion leaned over, grinning. “Which is one of the reasons I am willing to give you a chance. Most ponies don't have a good instinct for secrecy.”

He clopped his hoof onto Mordane's shoulder.

“Our names can’t be stolen if we don’t have it! Choose a pen name and stick to it in this business. It will do you good.” He frowned seriously. “Call me Copper. What should I call you?”

Mordane grinned,

“Call me Zinc.”

A half an hour later Mordane trotted down to the cafe where he saw his family. Their conversation was still going as he sat down.

“–stand this place. It's noisy, smelly, I can’t fly without a document that costs twenty bits, and everything is taxed.” Flashwing grumbled sitting with his hooves crossed and ears splayed back.

“It's just the way these ponies want to live. The city has many opportunities,” Stone replied, waving his hoof to the city around them. “Your brother is here now. Let's go to the bank.”

The bank was small and worked out of a hole in the wall. Small enough that only a few ponies could fit in at a time.

Inside, Mordane met a sight he had not expected. Two Royal Guards stood in line partially in uniform, their helmets hanging off of their waist.

“You will have to wait for the transfer,” the secretary mare mumbled. “It should take a few minutes. Please make way for other customers.”

The two guards looked at each other, the mare gesturing with her wing to the side.

“Told you they would hold us. What about my lunch?” the mare groaned. “We need to get back to our patrol.”

“Do your flanks really need it?” the stallion snickered, getting a wingslap to the back of his head.

“I don’t want to bucking hear it.”

“Come along,” Stone whispered, stepping forward with the rest of the line. Mordane nodded and pushed aside his shock.

Stone stepped up to the counter a few minutes later, passing a slip to the mare.

“Any for deposit?” the bored mare asked.

“No, I–”

*BANG*

Eveypony jumped as two earth ponies bucked open the doors and strode in with crossbows loaded. They swept the room with them and Mordane’s stomach did a flip.

For a moment his mind honed in. Taking stock of the situation as the older memories asserted themselves. The crossbows where smaller than ones on ancient earth, but he could see runes carved into them.

“Those royal guards will handle this.”

“Nopony move! Dis is a robbery!” The two ponies swept the room as everypony dropped to the floor.

“Yah goin’ ta do anything? Heh!” spoke the tall thief gesturing her hoof to the two guards.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to break da law, huh.”

The two guards scowled but stood still. Both stepping back and out of the way. Mordane’s brother scowled and Mordane’s eyes widened.

“What are they doing!” Mordane thought. “They should be able to take them! The unicorn should be able to do something!”

The robber ponies nickered before they trotted up and hoofed a large bag to the mare behind the counter.

“Toss da bits in da bag,” the stallion grunted.

“W–what!?” she stuttered wide eyed, staring at the two.

“He said toss da bits in da bag! Hey!” The mare thief pointed her bow at another customer. “Gimme your necklace!”

“Leave her be!” hissed the pegasi guard, rising to her hooves.

“Silverstreak…” the other hissed. “We’re still in Manehattan.”

But the guardmare only snorted before shouting, “FOR THE PRINCESS!” and charged the robbers with wings outstretched.

“Oh ponyfeathers,” groaned the unicorn guard. Mordane felt something in the room ripple toward him. In a moment, the guard’s horn flashed alight and fired an arcane blast at the mare, hitting her bow, which blew apart.

“Buck!” shouted the stallion before he swung his bow around and fired toward the charging pegasi guard.

The arrow flew true, but before striking runes flashed to life on the guards armor and it was deflected off an invisible wall into the ceiling.

“Buc–” The thief didn’t get a chance to finish before being tackled by the pegasi.

The mare robber tried to escape only to holler in fear as the remnants of her bow sprouted vines which wrapped her.

Mordane watched, eyes focused on the unicorn guard's horn trying to pull in everything he was feeling as another part of him tried to understand what was going on and why the guards had been so hesitant.

“So cool…”

Mordane flicked his eyes at Flashwing and raised an eyebrow at the stars which sparkled in his brother's eyes.

The two robbers were soon wrapped in vines and constrained with their bows lying broken on the floor in front of them.

“Well buck,” mumbled the guard, Silverstreak.

“Yeah…” agreed the unicorn. “We are so getting our ears chewed off for this.”

“I’m sorry bud, I just couldn’t–” her ears drooped

“I know, I know you silly mare,” he nickered.

A few moments later four Manehatten police officers came rushing into the room being led by a large Earth pony who scanned the room before immediately scowling at the two guards.

“Get on the ground. Now.” He said to the guards flatly as his fellow officers dragged off the robbers. As the two guards complied he approached, pulling out two links of chain with cuffs.

“Are manicles really necessary?” Silverstreak asked.

“You know the law, Royal dog.”

The two guards sighed, laying down and allowing the officers to cuff them.

“Hey!” Flashwing shouted trotting over. “What are you doing! They were saving ponies.”

The officer stepped toward Flashwing putting out a hoof.

“Don’t interfere, Manehatten police business. These guards broke the law.”

“What! That's not fair!” Flashwing shouted coming to a stop.

“Let it go, colt. Guards can’t enforce laws in the city. He has the authority to arrest us.” Silversteak spoke up before mumbling, “Though it’s a stupid rule.”

“You should have said that before breaking our laws. Now get up.” Scoffed the officer and gestured to the door.

Flashwing watched them go. His ears were still standing tall, but he held a scowl. Looking up at Stone, he asked. “But they didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Sometimes laws are unfair, Flashwing,” Stone said, pulling him and Mordane close into a hug before turning back to the secretary.

Mordane stared back at Manehattan as his dad pulled the cart down the royal road. His ears splayed to his head as he thought about what he had experienced in the city.

“Then they were on them! Just like that! And then they were punished for it! But they knew!” Mordanes' ears perked as his brother squeaked in excitement.

“Those same ponies also came to collect her taxes. You should have seen how they treated mom,” Mordane mumbled.

Flashwing wilted a bit at that before stomping his hoof.

“I’m sure those were some of the corrupt ones. If they got heroes like that in their ranks, they gotta be mostly good!”

“You are being naive. A tyrant may have good ponies under them,” Stone spoke up. “But in the end, they will never mind what the common pony thinks. Celestia does whatever she wills with ponykind.”

Mordane watched as a train pulled out of Manehattan. Its chimney released a puff of smoke, followed by another discrete puff of smoke, which increased in frequency as the train picked up speed.

“The shape is different. I don’t know what I think of pink as an aesthetic. But the steam stacks are there, even though it's a little too spindly to not be using some magic. I could really improve that design.” He smiled, his eyes shining as he considered a career working on trains. Shifting in the cart to see a little closer, he jumped a little. His wing sent a spike of pain to a ruffled feather.

Mordane frowned, looking at his covered back.

“Ah… I guess not.” Mordane ears drooping.“the state controls them all”

“Ah, you just don’t get it,” Flashwing said, flapping to land beside Mordane. Reaching down, he massaged Mordane's wings a little through the cloak.

“Hey Morty, what did you think of those guards?”

“...I think Dad is right. Even under a tyrant, any group will have a few good apples.” Mordane’s eyes continued to track the train, which his brother noticed. Grinning, he poked Mordane.

“You want to drive one of em?”

Mordane snorted before smiling. “...build one.”

Flashing chuckled. “Lot of work. But your noggin gots the joggin.”

“My wings would get in the way of schooling.” Mordane sighed, turning away from the train. He tapped the book, “But with enchanting, I might be able to earn some money.”

Flashwing snorted, shaking his head. “I’m looking for something with some action.” He grinned, and leaning down, he whispered, “Maybe I’ll join the guard?”

Mordane snorted and shook his head. Stone hummed in disapproval as they continued down the road, Manehatten disappearing over the hill.

Just a few months later, several tears and shouting matches had settled into a dull roar. Mordane had confirmed through his new contacts that the guard did not search one's memory. But in the end, taxes were what made his parents agree, and learning just how much Mordane’s books would cost.

“You promised to teach me to fly,” Mordane choked out.

“I’m sorry, bud. I’ll visit and teach you then. I promise.”

Mordane’s ears drooped. Something telling him this was untrue. His brother leaned down, pulling him into a hug.

“No more experiments like that fish, right?” his brother whispered.

“Yeah. None,” Mordane said, embarrassed.

Flashwing released him and stepped back. He took a moment to look Mordane over trying to remember him.

“Learn all you can,” he whispered, smiling softly.

“Thank you,” Mordane mumbled.

Turning, Flashwing took a small jog before flying to the air. Mordane watched him go. His ears folding flat as his brother took to the horizon.

The next year flew by for Mordane, each day was largely the same. He would do his chores, read, and practice enchantments then repeat.

His brother would seldom send letters, but when he did it added a little punctuation, separating the monotonous days of the cold. Instead he would be swept up to learn of guard training, the capital, and the rest of Equestria.

He would practice enchanting every day. Even after he ran to the ends of his mother’s knowledge. Even when he had long realized that he had no special talent for it. Even his mother told him as such.

Dinners became a place of interrogation which he tried to avoid. Questions about his future and what he wanted to do with his life.

A question to which Mordane had no answer.

His days began to gray, then blended together. Frustration slowly built.

In one of the abandoned homes Mordane had converted the living room to a work area, a kind of shop where he could experiment with carving tools, vises, and any note material he would need.

Mordane focused, drawing as much power into his horn that he could.

He shivered. Reaching down he traced the rune with his horn. Focusing intensely on the wood wedge.

The rune flared, and in a few moments he breathed out.

Opening his eyes he lifted and examined his work.

The small block was glowing slightly, as intended. On one side several sharply carved runes, extra deep. He smiled slightly before carefully lifting it with his hoof.

He held it for only a few seconds, and it began to smoke, the edges of the runes blackening.

Cursing, Mordane tried to toss the cube out of the window, only for it to hit the sill and bounce back.

“Shit.”

The runes' glow began to strengthen. Realizing that it was already too late, he fired his horn.

Energy from the room was pouring into the rune at an accelerating rate, making it where he could find no free energy to fuel his spell.

Cursing again, he rushed over to his current book, grabbed it, and ran from the building as the block burst violently into flame.

The fire burned down the empty house and soon spread to the hay field near it. The entire village had to be called out to prevent it from spreading too far out of control as they cut down and cleared a stretch to act as a fire break.

Mordane sat in their living room with soot all over his body, looking down at the floor as his tired father came in shortly after.

“What were you doing?” he asked in an even tone.

“Practicing enchanting,” Mordane snapped. “The block couldn’t take the spellwork.”

“How many runes did you use?” Sunnyfield asked, still fretting over him. She lifted his chin with her hoof. “How many?”

“Three,” Mordane mumbled. Charging his horn, he began to clean himself with a spell.

His mother's lips pressed together with her eyes, saying what he already knew. That three was pushing it for wood.

“I don’t have access to anything else.” Mordane defended himself. “I’d need metal to do it perfectly safe. I kept it low power…”

His mother and father looked at each other and then back to him.

“I see… Did you complete your chores?”

Mordane stiffened before frowning.

“I was going to do it after…”

“So now I’ll have to help you tomorrow,” his father said. “Plus the cleanup, the explanations. Our neighbors–”

“I get it,” Mordane hissed. Standing abruptly he pushed past the two of them and left out the door.

“Where are you going?” Stone asked.

“To do my chores!” Mordane snapped.

They watched him as he stomped out into the now-darkening town, his horn flashing to produce a beam of light.

Stone's visage softened as his son left, replaced with worry as he trotted to sit down, Sunnyfield coming over to help him clean.

“He is restless,” Stone whispered. His ears dropped. “It's as I feared. His destiny is much too big to fit into this little town.”

Sunnyfields pressed her muzzle against his ear. Her nose was smudged with soot.

“He is an alicorn,” she replied flatly. “It's still hard to believe it sometimes. Ever since you went to Manehatten and his brother left he has had his eyes on the horizon.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just hugging each other.

“I think we should take a lesson from Equestrian culture,” Stone said. “I think it's time for him to find his destiny.”

Mordane sat alone in the dark on top of the town's tower. The wood creaked underneath him as he heard what sounded like his father coming up.

“Mordane?”

“Hey, dad. Up here.”

Mordane waited as his father looked for a way up, and with a thunk, his dad made it up and came to lay down beside him.

“The stars look beautiful tonight,” Mordane spoke quietly.

“Do they?” Stone asked. “I suppose. I’ve never looked at them.”

“Yeah… That coloration on the moon as well. In the shape of a mare. Luna Moon. Guardian of the night. Sister to Celestia. Who apparently rules from Canterlot.”

“Mordane…” Stone said quietly.

“And an alicorn. Like me.”

The two sat silently looking up at the moon hanging overhead.

“I don’t know much about alicorns,” Stone said quietly. “But I know that you're my son.”

Mordane scooted a little closer to Stone, who pulled him into a hug.

“Well, me and your mother have been talking. I think this town is a little small for you to stay.”

Mordane said nothing, his ears drooping a bit.

“A clamped boiling pot explodes. Me and your mother have been talking and we think it would be a good idea for you to look for your destiny elsewhere.”

“My destiny?” Mordane frowned looking at the sky, “That’s a heavy word. I’m not sure I believe in it.”

Stone lifted Mordane's chin looking him in the eye. “Everypony has a destiny. It might not be grand, or it might shake all of Equis.”

Mordane looked away, “What about free will?”

Stone sighed. “Free will? You are what you are Mordane. You can’t choose differently from that, only to ignore it. In the end water runs clear. Time will tell.” Stone sat up, pulling Mordane with him. “Equestria has a tradition, one your mother and I didn’t want to have you participate in. We kept you close to home hoping Celestia wouldn’t find you.”

Mordane tilted his head to look up at Stone. A bit of fear in his eyes.

“Next week, when the mailpony comes, you're going to ride with him to the nearest train station. You should pick a place to go to.”

Mordanes' nose scrunched up confused. “Ponies just send their foals away?”

“No. It's… well, it's considered normal for older foals who don’t have a mark to travel and seek it.”

Mordane frowned. Looking into the distance.

“Dad, I'm eight.”

Stone blinked, then snorted, shaking his head.

“I was there, and it's hard to believe. But you’ve aged faster, and… you have something else in you.”

“... dad.”

“You are my son. Alicorn or not. Destiny or no.” He pulled Mordane in closer. “Eight years I’ve had you, and I’d like to have you more… but you’re restless, and I know when it's time.”

Mordane stared up at his father and compared him to his human one.

He thought about his earth mother and father again and felt a slight twinge at the thought of never seeing them again.

Despite everything, they had still been his parents. But so was Stone. In him, though, he saw what a father was meant to be—strong as his namesake, a solid block to build something on. Looking back, he could see echoes of that from his first parents.

“Maybe I should have been more forgiving of them while I had them.”

He hugged him harder.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” he whispered back as the stars twinkled above.

The next day, Mordane was alone, far from the town, and covered by a canopy. Steam billowed out of his mouth as he breathed hard.

He turned and pointed his horn, and there was a loud explosion. A puff of steam, as moisture in the air compressed, puffed out from the origin. Looking across the clearing, a roughly block-shaped stone sat atop a boulder. Around it, small pits of chipped stone could be seen.

Mordane floated up a small stone; the wind around him slowed sharply as his horn glow went from soft to a rippling miasma around the pebble.

The pebble blasted out, cracking into the stone and throwing it into the air.

Mordane’s legs wobbled as he gave a firm nod.

“It's not much, but I won’t be defenseless.” He looked back at his small town, pulling his cloak close. His mother had sown it thick and long, with a few enchantments.

His eyes filled with concern as he could visibly see how much the cold affected the land.

With a sigh, he nodded.

“This town doesn’t have long left.”

He had to admit it to himself. He cared about these ponies. His new life. That pain seemed further away than he had ever thought it could.

“Well, I died,” he chuckled.

He sighed and looked around him, staring into the cold.

“My parents don’t have the money… My brother had to go to join our worst enemy because of money. This land–” He ground his hoof into the frozen dirt. “Well, I’ll need some land further south. So I guess my destination is clear.”

Floating up another rock, he spun it up again.

“I’ll get what I need at Manehattan.” Practicing his telekinesis for as long as he could, he quietly returned home with his heart set on his goal.

Author's Note

Hey Everyone I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

I'm looking for a new editor, please let me know if you are interested via direct msg